Phalaenopsis
The orchid Phalaenopsis is named after large moths (genus: Phalaena). And, in fact, the blossoms do look like they might spring off their stems and fly away.
After an enlightening birthday lunch with Steve, I stopped by the grocery store. I was standing in line with my strawberries and halibut and other things that don’t go together, when I looked over my shoulder and saw that orchid plants were on sale for 15$. Which is a steal.
I asked the woman behind me if I could step out of line for a moment. She generously agreed, and I walked over to the orchids. Then I glanced down, and realized that the woman’s little daughter had followed me. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” I asked, and she nodded.
My friend Dave gave me a Phalaenopsis years ago, when we were in college. It was a birthday gift, a very lovely thing waiting for me at the very unlovely front desk of my dorm. I managed to keep that plant alive until Sophie, as a wild and crazy kitten, destroyed it. Dave told me a few things about caring for orchids, so I knew how to pick out a good one. I selected one with flawless blossoms, a couple buds, and a promising shoot.
At the checkout, however, I saw that the shoot was broken. So I took my receipt and went back to the flowers, to see if there was a better orchid. I rummaged around, feeling vaguely guilty at the sight of all these plants tangled together. No plant seemed perfect, but I kept searching.
Then I felt something touching my hair, as if playing with it. I looked up, and saw the flowers of my original orchid tangled in my hair. All right, I thought, you’re coming home with me.
I have never cared for an orchid. Like many serious gardeners, I’m not that good at growing things indoors. Robert Newgarden (yes, his real name) with whom I did my horticultural apprenticeship at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden claimed to routinely annihilate houseplants. But the Monocot Border and the Herb Garden at BBG blossomed under his gentle care. I do, however, have an armchair fascination with orchids. Gardening and literature go hand in hand. Vita Sackville West was only one of the more flamboyant writer gardeners. Especially in the winter gardeners read. The orchid section in my library includes: Susan Orleans brilliant The Orchid Thief, Eric Hansen’s Orchid Fever: A Horticultural Tale of Love, Lust, and Lunacy, a coffee-table picture book and then a handful of horto-geek botanical tomes. Why? And why did I let Stephen organize our library which is finally more or less done? It took half an hour to find them. One final orchid note before I get back to painting. Last spring when Vadim and I were climbing at Rumney in New Hampshire I found a pink Lady Slipper (Cypripedium reginae) growing out of the leaf litter. How could a native New England wildflower be so exotic and so sexual?
Aw shucks . . . I remember that front desk.