Dear Ferret Folks-

Ferrets are one of my passions, gardening is another. Well, gardeners
here in New England have some extra added challenges to face. There
is WINTER, for example. I deal with winter by having many year-round
houseplants, what my husband calls my "jungle." There are Christmas
cactuses, the purple oxalis, the kalanchoe that just won't die, the
aloe plant my friend Amy gave me many years ago when her pre-schooler,
Dave, wouldn't stop peeing in it, there's the thirty-foot long pothos
vine, the jasmine, the sky-blue vine, (Don't know any other name for
it. Gives me sky-blue flowers in winter.) the jade tree that started
as a baby from my sister's jade tree, the rosemary, the cactuses, the
impatiens that bloom year-round in their glass conservatory box, the
bamboo, the Caribbean black-cane, the spider plants, the ivy, the
"banana" succulent, the Apostle plant, the lion's ear, the burro's
tail that Ardith gave me, the amaryllis bulbs and THEN....there is
the Big Pink Orchid.

The Big Pink Orchid and I go way back. Sixteen years ago I had a temp.
job working in a greenhouse as a transplanter. Around February, March,
the greenhouses down south would ship us plastic sheets of plant
"plugs", little sprouts about an inch high. The plastic sheets had 
144 dimples in them (a gross) and in each dimple there was a sprout.
I popped the sprouts out and moved them into plastic "six-packs."
Eventually, the customers would buy the plastic six-packs with the
much bigger sprouts growing inside. Ideally, the sprouts would be
blooming by the time the customers saw them a few months later.

It was a sad and weird time in my life. I had just been fired from a
very good job. Not because I wasn't good at what I did, but becaus
I was a weird person, and the very conservative company I worked
for didn't want to be represented by a weird person. This was years
before I was diagnosed as manic-depressive. At the time I sensed that
*something* was wrong, but I didn't have any idea what the problem was.
I just knew that I couldn't get a grip on it, and I was scared. I had
gone from the top of my field to an under the table job transplanting
coleus sprouts for ornamental foliage, and I was scared. My co-workers
for their parts were all living their own country western songs, too.
Mostly drugs and alcohol and broken relationships had brought them to
the greenhouses. We all had one thing in common--we loved to have our
hands in the soil. It was healing, and we were a collection of broken
lives.

I remember one day in particular I was working with a man who was a
bit older than I was. He was worn like leather and, I think, barely
treading water in his life. He drove a camper trailer to work and I
suspect that he lived in it. We were popping out sprouts and he asked
me if I liked orchids. Well heck, yes, who didn't like orchids? He said
wait here a minute, and he ran outside to his camper trailer. I heard
its little plywood and aluminum door slam and her was back with a
double handful of shiny green strap-like leaves. He told me it was a
piece of one of his orchids, (I'm imagining a gypsy-batchelor's camper
trailer full of orchids!) and it was a really good one. He told me it
was easy to grow, and made big pink flowers.

Well, I was delighted. I've bought some of my plants but in my
experience the best ones are the ones given as gifts. I had never
grown an orchid before, and I was really looking forward to those
"big pink flowers." That was the winter of 1991-92.

No orchid that year. No orchid the next year. No orchid the year after
that. I read books about orchids. I went online and studied them. I
fertilized it. I starved it. I bought it expensive orchid potting mix.
I transplanted it to wood chips. I gave it a big pot. I transferred it
to a small pot so that it would be root-bound. I misted it. I stopped
misting it. I kept it dry. I kept it wet. I planted it in sphagnum
moss. I put it outside over the summer. I brought it inside year-round.

Nothing.
Nothing.

Sixteen years of nothing. Many times, I threatened to toss it into the
woods. To give it away to someone else. To set the oven at 400 degrees
and slide it in on a cookie sheet. It was *personal* between me and
this orchid. Personal. When I saw it I remembered that hard time,
popping out sprouts and wondering what the hell I was going to do with
my life. This was more than a plant to me, it was a symbol of a door
that I had passed through with the greatest difficulty. I would see it,
and I would remember the group of us broken people, turning our faces
up to the sun's healing light. The rich warm smell of earth and the
coldest, coldest water that came from out of the green rubber hoses...
the taste of worn brass fittings on our lips when we were thirsty.

It's happening. Yes, after SIXTEEN YEARS my orchid has sent up what I
am told is called a "raceme" that is now a good three feet long and
dimpled with buds. You were expecting me to say "pink buds", weren't
you?

Hah.

They are yellow. Yellow buds. These will be yellow spotted flowers,
and small. I believe the plant is known as a "moth orchid", from the
distinctive shape of the flowers. I just read this on line about the
moth-orchid:

>People view an orchid as some sort of exotic, and difficult to grow
>plant, when they really aren't.
> http://www.plant-care.com/phalaenopsis-orchid-care.html

Oh, really? Define DIFFICULT, Skippy! How about "Won't bloom for
sixteen years at a crack?"  It's not just the plant's persistent
unwillingness to bloom. It's the plant's sense of humor that makes me
grind my teeth. On tuesday, I go back to Mexico for TWO WEEKS. Is this
orchid going to bloom before tuesday? No. Will it have completely
finished it's bloom cycle before I return on the 24th? I'm pretty sure
it will. It's a Murphy's Law kind of deal. And then if it holds to its
schedule, it will bloom again in 2024. My husband promises that he will
take really nice pictures if it blooms while I am away. I am not sure
that I will be able to bring myself to look at them.

It has been many years since I lost the name of the man who gave me
the Big Pink Orchid. I wonder what he was thinking when he gave it to
me. Was he just wrong about which one it was? Had someone told *him*
it would burst into big pink flowers, and he was working on that
assumption? Have things turned around for him? I hope so. My life is
certainly better today. I have an excellent husband and a home that we
love. We have the Noble Allis Chompers and Ping and Puma. I have places
to go, and things to do. And if that *&)+er blooms while I am away, I
am going to select someone's mailbox at random, and stick the plant
inside with a little note:

This orchid will make big pink flowers.

Alexandra in MA

Here the little monster is, in the terracotta pot to the left, blossom
spike brushing the ceiling. This is a cellphone pic, so it's not
top-notch.

<http://s260.photobucket.com/albums/ii8/auntferret/?action=view&current=1200338371.jpg>

[Posted in FML 5852]