Two Dorstenia

We usually grow plants for the beauty of their flowers or foliage. Sometimes, though, we simply cannot resist the bizarre.

This fleshy green alien belongs to Dorstenia elata, a member of the fig family (Moraceae) native to eastern Brazil. The structure is called a hypanthodium, a special type of inflorescence bearing many minute male and female flowers. In some plants, like the figs we eat, the hypanthodium forms a hollow structure with an opening. This allows a special type of wasp to enter and lay eggs. In so doing, she pollinates the fig. The process is fascinating. Anyway, the hypanthodia of Dorstenia species are like figs turned outward so they're much flatter, exposing all of the flowers.  When the seeds are ripe the plant shoots them outward several inches, a method of seed dispersal known as ballistichory.

Freaky flowers aside, the whole plant is quite attractive. There are actually three plants in that pot, which I grew from seed. Dorstenia are, in general, very easy to grow from seed. That combined with their habit of propelling their seeds everywhere make them greenhouse pests. But this one in particular makes an excellent houseplant and deserves to be more widely grown for its glossy green leaves. It is an adaptable plant, and can tolerate a wide range of soils (this one is in regular potting soil), temperatures, and light. Mine gets moved around as I make room for other plants and has done well in deep shape as well as bright light. It's very tolerant of drought, too, so if you miss a watering it will bounce right back.

Many Dorstenia hail from dry regions and so develop thick caudices that hold special appeal for succulent growers. D. elata and the other Dorstenia I grow, D. cuspidata var. humblotiana, are exceptional in this regard. (Though I do hope to obtain some of the succulent ones to round out my collection.)

D. elata is fairly common, but D. cuspidata var. humblotiana is a rarity. It is the only Dorstenia endemic to Madagascar, though other forms of D. cuspidata may be found in parts of Africa. Unlike its succulent cousins, its stems are quite thin. The leaves are lanceolate and ever so slightly pubescent; soft to the touch. Its hypanthodia are angular, with four points and little protuberances. They remind me of little green stars.

Despite its rarity, D. cuspidata var. humblotiana is surprisingly easy to care for. ("Rare" doesn't always mean "difficult" in horticulture. Conversely, "common" doesn't always mean "easy," as anyone who has tried to keep a grocery-store Cyclamen alive in household conditions knows.) It needs a winter rest, during which it should receive no fertilizer and much less water, and may or may not lose its leaves and stems. I didn't know this when I first acquired the plant and thought it had died when it dropped its leaves. Luckily, there was some Selaginella moss growing in the pot and my partner insisted we keep the pot of moss alive, because he liked it. Well, that saved this plant because later that spring it sent up a new shoot!

Although it isn't a succulent, this Dorstenia does create a thick underground tuber, which can be raised a bit above the soil level to create a nice caudex.

I water and fertilize this one regularly in the summer, when it is actively growing. I move it outside, where it gets morning sunlight and bright shade the rest of the day. When the days get shorter and the weather cooler, its leaves turn yellow and I cut back on the watering. During the winter, it sits wherever I have space for it and receives just enough water to keep the soil from going bone dry. 

 



 

Nepenthes from seed

It's been a while since I updated this blog. I've been finishing a book manuscript (not at all related to plants, alas) and haven't had much time. But I'm back online now and have a lot of catching up to do.

First off, my inorganic media experiment failed. The kanuma simply couldn't hold moisture long enough and without daily watering the plants quickly suffered. But I've been adding it to my usual mix of LFS/perlite, which helps to cut down on the amount of LFS I use.

Back in April, I acquired some Nepenthes seeds from a cross between N. "Helen" (spathulata x spectabilis), named after Helen Mirren, and N. spectabilis.  

Those two pods yielded enough seed to fill six 4" pots! This would be my first serious attempt growing Nepenthes from seed, so I followed an ICPS growing guide. I used LFS for three of the pots and a peat/perlite mix for the other three. I placed plastic bags over the pots to keep them humid and stuck them under fluorescent lights at the bottom of my grow rack. The key to growing Nepenthes from seed is patience: in June, about two months since I sowed the seed, I began to see some germination.

spes et patientia vincunt

 The seedlings are now beginning to produce their first true leaves:

I microwaved the media before sowing the seeds, so haven't had major problems with moss or algae, although you can see some algae growing in the above picture. I hope that the seedlings can outpace it! 

On the subject of Nepenthes, I thought I'd share a few recent pictures of pitchers.

This is N. glandulifera x burbidgeae. I just cannot get enough of this hybrid. It has all the scruff and dewiness of N. glandulifera, plus the beauty of N. burbidgeae.

This is N. maxima x aristolochioides and N. spathulata x spectabilis, growing side by side. Both are extremely fast, vigorous growers and would make great plants for someone who is just getting started with Nepenthes.

Here's a little one; a seed-grown N. albomarginata from Gunung Jerai. I never really wanted to grow lowlanders, but when a plant mislabeled as N. reinwardtiana turned out to be an albo, I was hooked. This species grows quite well in my intermediate conditions and doesn't seem to mind the cooler winter temperatures, either. So when I had the chance to get this beautiful red form, I couldn't pass it up!

Finally, N. peltata. This is another small one and the first pitcher under my care. The plant itself is very attractive. The upper surface of the lamina is a deep burgundy color, while the underside is dark green.

A few more Oeceoclades

A few months ago, I acquired a few Oeceoclades from The Huntington Botanical Gardens: O. maculata, O. peyrotii, and O. spathulifera. The really wonderful thing about these is that each came with locality data, so I know this O. maculata, an otherwise very common orchid that has become naturalized in the Caribbean and Florida, is the offspring of plants collected in Tôlanaro, Madagascar. I also acquired O. monophylla, which was described in 1976 as a distinct species, but has recently been lumped into O. maculata.

The genus Oeceoclades was revised in 1976 by Leslie Andrew Garay and Peter Taylor, who expanded it to incorporate many plants previous placed in Eulophia or Eulophidium. Those of you who grow carnivorous plants will probably recognize Peter Taylor as the author of *the* monograph on Utricularia.

As I mentioned in my post on O. gracillima, these orchids aren't especially popular. Their flowers are small, brown or green, and not particularly showy. But what they lack in the floral department they more than make up for in richly patterned and often colorful foliage. Here is O. monophylla:

O. spathulifera is perhaps my favorite species. There is something reptilian about its patterned leaves, which remind me of a reticulated python or Gaboon viper. This photo doesn't quite do the plant justice:

That one has a new growth, which you can see to the left. Oeceoclades seem to be fairly slow growing, producing only one or two new pseudobulbs each spring or summer. Around that time, they may send up a flower spike, like my O. peyrotii:

The spike is emerging next to the new growth. O. peyrotii is much greener than other species and lacks a bold pattern, but there some subtle mottling and the fibrous tunic on the pseudobulbs adds to its charm.

Like O. gracillima, I grow these rather dry, watering about once per week in the summer and much less frequently in the winter. As for the potting medium, I use a standard cactus mix that contains mostly peat and sand, and add to that fine-grade orchid bark, pumice, and lava rock to create a fast-draining but moisture-retentive substrate. I fertilize lightly in the summer and not at all during the winter. 

O. maculata is not in shape for a picture at the moment. I placed it outside with a number of other plants and the neighborhood squirrels, who love to dig into potted plants, chew Nepenthes pitchers, and otherwise wreak havoc on my plants, mauled it pretty badly. It is in recovery, though, and has new growth!

Nepenthes in inorganic media?

Peat is ubiquitous in horticulture. A lot of gardeners turn to peat moss as an amendment to loosen up clumpy soil. Those who grow carnivorous plants often use the "standard CP mix," which is 1:1 peat and perlite, for many species. For Nepenthes, most mixes involve long-fiber sphagnum moss. LFS is popular for orchids, too. It retains moisture, allows air to get to the roots, and even has antibacterial properties. What's not to love? 

Well, for starters, sphagnum breaks down over time. The wetter the mix, the more frequently the plant will need to be repotted. Fortunately, sphagnum is readily available in most garden centers and online.

Unfortunately, sphagnum is not sustainable (see here and here). For most plants, there are a lot of more sustainable alternatives, including compost and coconut coir or coco "peat" (a byproduct of the coconut industry). Compost is out for Nepenthes, which are sensitive to nutrients in the soil and prefer an airier mix anyway. Coconut products are a better alternative. The only drawback is that they are often saturated with salts and need to be soaked and washed in pure or distilled water several times first.

I want to wean myself off sphagnum, but rinsing coconut products in pure water isn't really feasible for someone who buys his distilled water from the store. So, I'm experimenting with inorganic mixes.

There are as many soil mixes for Nepenthes as there are growers. Some will swear that there is no alternative to sphagnum, others will tell you they successfully grow their plants in floral foam. There is, of course, no perfect mix and other factors (temperature, humidity, fertilization, frequency of watering, etc.) need to be accounted for when choosing a mix.

I already grow my Nepenthes vieillardii in a mostly inorganic mix, composed of turface, perlite, laterite, lava rock, hydroton, and fine-grade orchid bark.

N. vieillardii

N. vieillardii is one that often limps along in collections, growing but never quite thriving. One grower has had success growing it in a drier, grittier mix, given that the plant grows naturally in the dry, lateritic soils of New Caledonia. After a few months growing it in long-fiber sphagnum, I decided to give the aforementioned mix a shot. Time will tell.

What about the rest of the genus? Nepenthes prefer acidic, moist, airy, nutrient-poor substrates and sphagnum fits the bill. After a lot of searching, I came across a soil called kanuma that is used for bonsai azalea and other calcifuges because it is reported to be more acidic than akadama, the usual bonsai substrate (though this is controversial).  Kanuma is a yellowish, lightweight, slightly crumbly soil from the Kanuma area in central Japan. It has great moisture retention yet allows plenty of air to get to the roots. Also, because it's soft, thin-rooted plants should have no trouble growing through it. This, I thought, might be an ideal base for an inorganic mix. Here are two N. ventricosa potted up in kanuma mixes:

  
The one to the left is in a mix of kanuma, perlite, and lava rock. The other is in a 50:50 mix of kanuma and perlite They haven't been in the mix very long, just a few days, but already I'm learning that it isn't easy determining how often to water. Since there is no organic material, fertilization will be necessary, too. I don't know how much, but certainly more than my other Nepenthes get. Only time will tell if this mix is suitable or not. But I do hope that this will bring me closer to a peat/sphagnum-free Nepenthes mix.  

A small orchidarium

Several months ago, our Betta's 2.6 gallon tank sprung a leak (and the tank was really too small anyway, so he now resides in a 5 gallon). Plant lover + empty tank = terrarium.

Taking inspiration from another grower, I decided to carpet the bottom with Utricularia sandersonii, so that it would make a bright green mat of leaves and, when blooming, add interest. It also helps keep the humidity up. J&L Orchids was having a good sale, so I purchased a few minis (Lepanthes gargoyla, Salpistele brunnea, and Scaphosepalum rapax) and mounted them on a piece of cork bark. This is how it looks after a few months of growing out:

It wasn't too difficult to set up. I added silicone to the bottom to seal the leak, since the Utricularia wants it wet. The LED fixture that came with the tank was way too dim, so I bought a Jungle Dawn 13W LED. It's bright. More than enough for these orchids. In fact, the Lepanthes colored up within a few days. There isn't much air movement, but I haven't (yet) had to combat fungus or mold. I suspect that the lid, which isn't very tight, allows for some movement as does the daily misting I give the plants.

Utricularia sandersonii carpet

The Salpistele brunnea hasn't bloomed yet, but I'm not surprised. I hear it's slow and there isn't a lot of cultivation information out there. The Sppm. rapax makes the weirdest flower:

But my favorite one in the tank is Lepanthes gargoyla. This is a fantastic, tolerant, and vigorous miniature. It produces two different kinds of leaves: short, smooth, more or less upright leaves that don't bear flowers, and longer, pendulous, fuzzy leaves that bear magnificent little flowers. I can't get enough of this one and wish I had a better camera to capture its beauty.

See the little gargoyle face?

It blooms sequentially; a new bud starts developing soon after the flower fades and drops off. Lepanthes is perhaps my favorite genus (next to Oeceoclades; I know, apples to oranges). Unfortunately, many are cool to cold growers and wouldn't last long in my intermediate to warm conditions. Lepanthes gargoyla is one of the more tolerant species.

New butterworts

TerraForums once again hosted an auction to benefit the North American Sarracenia Conservancy. It's a great way to get rid of excess plant material and acquire some new plants, all for a very good cause. I put up a few plants, including a Lecanopteris mirabilis, Myrmecodia sp., and a Drosera graomogolensis. But I couldn't resist bidding! Now that my orchid collection is outpacing my carnivorous plant collection, I thought I'd even things out by bidding on some Pinguicula, commonly called butterworts.

I ended up winning a P. gigantea, P. esseriana, P. laueana, and a P. rotundiflora. I also recently acquired a P. reticulata in a trade.

P. gigantea

P. gigantea is, you guessed it, a big one, reaching 9-10 inches in diameter. It is unique in that both sides of its leaves are sticky (most butterworts produce mucilage and digestive enzymes only on the upper sides of their leaves). Mine is just a small division... for now.

 The other newbies:

P. rotundiflora

P. reticulata

P. laueana

P. esseriana

With all these new butterworts, I decided to pot everything, including my older plants, together in a bonsai pot. It will save some space and I rather like the look of Pinguicula community pots. Here's what the whole thing looks like:

These Pinguicula hail from Mexico and have two distinct seasonal growth patterns. In the winter, when they need much less water, they form tight rosettes of succulent leaves. In the spring, they begin to form their wide, glistening carnivorous leaves.

P. 'Seductora' beginning to make carnivorous leaves. Many Mexican butterworts will flush pink or red in good light.

Unlike Drosera, Utricularia, and some other carnivorous plants, Pinguicula don't need as much water, even in their carnivorous phase. Consequently, many growers pot them up in coarse, well-draining mixes. Mine are in a mix of turface, lava rock, perlite, and a little peat. There are almost as many mixes as there are growers and I've had success growing them in the 50/50 mix of peat and perlite that is standard for most carnivorous plants. Anyway, they're quite easy to grow and make lovely flowers, so they're a good choice for beginners.

Anramitaco

The first European description of a Nepenthes comes to us from Etienne de Flacourt (1607-1660), French governor of Fort Dauphin (Tôlanaro, Madagascar) from 1648-1655.

To compete with the English and Dutch East India Companies, chartered in 1600 and 1602, the French created the Compagnie d'Orient in 1642 and established a colony at Fort Dauphin shortly thereafter. Beset by disease, debt, conflict with the native population, and a series of mutinies, the colony would last only thirty years before being abandoned. In order to drum up support for the struggling colony at home, Flacourt published his Histoire de la grande isle de Madagascar in 1658 and reissued it with additional material in 1661. The book describes, among other things, the flora of the island. For those of us interested in carnivorous plants, there's one plant in particular that catches the eye: anramitaco

"Anramitaco is a plant [...] that carries at the end of its leaves [...] a hollow flower or fruit like a small vase, which has a lid. This is a wonderful sight. There are red ones and yellow ones, the yellow ones being the largest." He notes that the little "flowers" contain water, and recounts a local superstition that it would not rain if one picked the "flower." Given this description, the anramitaco is none other than Nepenthes madagascariensis, one of only two species of Nepenthes endemic to Madagascar and widespread in the area around Tôlanaro.

The illustration (numbered 43) is very likely the first European illustration of a Nepenthes. I don't know if Flacourt preserved a specimen or not (probably not), but we do know that at least one plant, a Madagascar periwinkle (Catharanthus roseus), made it back to France and was later integrated into Sébastien Vaillant's herbarium, which still exists.

N. madagascariensis isn't the showiest Nepenthes, but it is one I'd love to grow for its botanical history alone. Unfortunately, this one is a lowlander and likes it hot and humid, so it would not last long in my conditions.

Proust's orchids

Last week, I gave a lecture on Proust's "Swann in Love," a relatively short and manageable section from the seven-volume Remembrance of Things Past. There's a wonderful little scene where Swann, on the pretext of adjusting the Cattleya orchids tucked around Odette's "low-necked bodice," makes love to her for the first time. From that moment on, faire cattleya ("make cattleya") serves as their secret, romantic code for lovemaking. But for Proust the Cattleya is more than an instance of lovers' language. The orchid comes to occupy the narrator's reflections on human nature, the unconscious, and literary creation. 

Detail from Cattleya Orchid and Three Hummingbirds (1871)

Proust was fascinated by orchids, especially their complicated pollination syndromes. He knew Darwin's work through translations by Amédée Coutance (1824-1895). Coutance was a curious botanist who authored, in addition to treatises on the oak and the olive tree, a short book on La Fontaine's Fables in which he argued that the seventeenth-century poet "a eu l'intuition des grandes lois qui régissent les luttes pour l'existence, et que, sur quelques points, il a devancé la science de son temps" [intuited the great laws that govern the struggle of existence and in some respects was ahead of the science of his day]. In the opening pages of Sodom and Gomorrah, the fourth volume of Remembrance, the narrator will remark that the laws of plant world are in turn governed by superior laws. All this talk of "laws," of course, nods toward Darwin's laws of evolution and natural selection. A flower's "ruse apparente" [apparent ruse] tricks an insect into pollinating it, but neither the flower nor the insect (nor even the casual observer) knows that this whole scene obeys an inscrutable natural order that ensures fertilization and avoids sterile self-fertilization.

Citing the example of the vanilla orchid, the narrator notes that "l'organe mâle est séparé par une cloison de l'organe femelle" [the male organ is separated from the female by a partition] and that it would remain sterile were it not for the intervention of birds, bees, or a human hand. This little partition, called the rostellum, serves to prevent self-fertilization. For Proust, the image applies to human relationships as well, suggesting the inaccessibility of the beloved and the need for some kind of artifice to unite the two. Hence Swann's recourse to the metaphorical power of language in "make cattleya." It is as though "making cattleya" is the only way Swann can make love to Odette. Of course, the repeated "make cattleya" diminishes the freshness and excitement of the newly-coined metaphor until finally it no longer promises sexual intercourse, but instead frustration and disappointment. "No cattleyas tonight."        

Illustration from Darwin's On the Various Contrivances by which [...] Orchids are Fertilised by Insects (1862). "a" is the male part, "s" the female part, and "r" the rostellum

When it comes to orchids, Proust is less concerned with evolution than with aesthetics, for he goes to say in the manuscript (not, alas, the published work) that the laws of evolution oblige us to consider "un être silencieux" [a silent entity] enclosed within a flower's petals and that we too contain something silent and unknowable that nevertheless obeys certain laws--the unconscious. Now, for an author preoccupied with the unconscious mind--spontaneous memories, sudden associations, dreams, desires--it is hardly surprising that the scene of pollination in turn becomes a metaphor for the "partie inconsciente de l'oeuvre littéraire" [the unconscious part of a literary work]. The famous madeleine scene, for example, captures all the intensity of memory relived. Whereas the conscious effort to recover the past results in frustration, the simple act of dunking a cookie into a cup of tea reaches deep into the unconscious and vividly brings forth past experience. Like self-fertilization, conscious remembrance is sterile. But the fortuitous intervention of an external entity, like a bee or a cookie, productively stimulates the unconscious, allowing use not just to remember, but to relive and recreate the past.

There's a lot more to say about Proust and orchids. Maybe one day I'll get around to putting my thoughts in order. Until then, I'm content just to pick up Sodom and Gomorrah from time to time and read the intoxicating first few pages where literary modernism meets botanical reflection.

Portrait of Proust by Jacques-Emile Blanche (1892), featuring an orchid in his buttonhole

   

Ants in your plants

This is a young Myrmecodia tuberosa, a distant relative of coffee that grows as an epiphyte in the forests of Southeast Asia.

Myrmecodia tuberosa

If you know your Greek, you might be wondering if this plant has anything to do with ants. Indeed, it does. This is an example of a myrmecophyte, commonly called an "ant plant" (myrmex "ant" + phyton "plant"). These plants grow in association with ants, with which they have a mutualistic relationship. The plant provides shelter for the ants, who in turn defend the plant from herbivorous pests and furnish it with nutrients from their waste. Where do the ants shelter? In the swollen base, or domatium, which is full of tunnels and chambers.

Cross-section of a Myrmecodia

My favorite ant plants are ferns of the genus Lecanopteris. I have two species, L. sinuosa and L. mirabilis, in my collection. These are two of the easier species and have proven to be quite vigorous and tolerant.

Lecanopteris sinuosa

L. sinuosa has hollow, creeping rhizomes covered in a layer of scales.

Close-up showing scales and a new frond

The hollow rhizomes of L. sinuosa serve the same purpose as the domatia of Myrmecodia spp. by providing shelter for colonies of ants. Most Lecanopteris share this feature, but L. mirabilis is an exception. Its large, flattened rhizomes shield ant colonies from the elements. They remind me of pools of green wax. Here is a small, recent division of L. mirabilis:

Lecanopteris sinuosa

Fortunately, you don't need ants to cultivate these fascinating plants. I grow Myrmecodia and Lecanopteris is sphagnum moss (sometimes sold as "orchid moss"). Regular, weak fertilizer application makes up for the missing ant colonies. Myrmecodia can take very bright light. I've found Lecanopteris to be tolerant of both light shade and more moderate light. Coming from the tropics, they do prefer high humidity.

I hope to add more ant plants to my collection. They're not only beautiful plants, but also great conversation pieces!

Blooming bladderworts

Today, I discovered that my small pot of Utricularia warburgii is sending up flowers.

U. warburgii is a bladderwort (so named because of the tiny subterranean bladder-like traps) native to SE China. I've had the plant for nearly two years, but this is the first time it is blooming. It did not bloom until I put it on directly on the windowsill last summer, where it experiences seasonal variation in temperature and photoperiod. It could be that this particular species needs seasonal cues to bloom. In any case, it's blooming now and the flowers are very pretty.

Utricularia flowers are very small (this one is about the size of a pencil eraser) but their delicacy is reminiscent of orchids. They aren't very popular, which is a shame because the terrestrial varieties are quite easy to grow, don't take up much space, and will reward you with lots of flowers.

U. sandersonii

U. livida

U. pubescens

U. chrysantha

U. blanchetii (with a Nepenthes ventricosa x talangensis)

Terrestrial bladderworts are not demanding. Grow them in a mix of peat and sand or perlite. As with all carnivorous plants, do not use substrates containing fertilizers and always use pure, e.g. distilled, water. Bladderworts like wet feet, so grow them in undrained containers (I use yogurt cups) or place pots in a dish of water. Some species are reliably floriferous, like U. livida, others need a little coaxing to bloom. Though not as showy or recognizable as the sundew or Venus fly trap, these diminutive plants will brighten your windowsill with scores of charming blossoms. 



  

Orchids in hanging terrariums

Terrariums are in. Especially tiny, trendy, crafty terrariums fashioned out of everything from spice jars to light bulbs. Hanging glass terrariums are also popular and, I'll admit, are great for folks with windows but not a lot of windowsill. The problem is that, while many of these projects score points for aesthetics, they're horticultural disasters unlikely to last for more than a few months.

Take, for example this carnivorous plant terrarium:

  
It's visually appealing. It's self-contained. It's full of interesting plants. It's also doomed. First of all, it combines plants with very different cultural requirements. Nepenthes (the pitcher plant) are tropical plants that grow throughout the year, while Dionaea (the Venus flytrap) is a temperate plant, native to North Carolina, that requires a cold winter dormancy. Second, Nepenthes generally prefer a more open medium, like sphagnum moss and perlite, and a dense, peat-based medium like the one here will likely lead to rot. Third, Nepenthes are vines. Big vines. If it remains healthy, it will quickly outgrow the terrarium. And I'm just getting started...

There are, however, many other plants that do well in terrarium. Tillandsia (the ubiquitous "air plant"), for example. But also miniature orchids, particularly those of the subtribe Pleurothallidinae. Many prefer high humidity and constant moisture at the roots, making them difficult for anyone who doesn't have the space for a proper orchidarium. Fortunately, they grow well in hanging glass globes. I don't know how or when the trend started, but an increasing number of orchid growers have adopted this method to grow the odd Pleurothallid or two.

I have two Pleuros in hanging glass globes, a Pleurothallis alata and a Lepanthes calodictyon. The latter is a gorgeous miniature orchid, with densely patterned, ruffle-edged leaves and tiny red flowers that resemble insects. Mine came mounted on a small piece of cork. I placed moist sphagnum moss in the bottom of the globe and nestled the mount on top. Within a few months, various mosses began to grow, creating a nice green bed beneath the orchid. I keep the moss moist and mist the globe (one spritz does a good job thoroughly wetting the interior) once every day or so. The globe hangs about two feet from the window, so it receives no direct sun. Here's how it looks:

And here's a close-up of the flower:

While this is easier than attempting to grow Lepanthes calodictyon on a windowsill next to some grocery-store Phalaenopsis, there are a few things to keep in mind: it should never dry out, but excess water will promote fungus and rot, so water carefully; most Pleuros are sensitive to dissolved salts, so use distilled or RO water and fertilize weakly throughout the year; finally (this should be obvious), keep it out of direct sunlight to avoid cooking your plant. And above all, always research your plant's cultural needs, lest you end up crafting a beautiful disaster like the carnivorous plant terrarium above!