Scadoxus nutans

Scadoxus nutans is a plant in the family Amaryllidoideae, but it isn't your grandmother's Christmas amaryllis. S. nutans is endemic to the wet, montane forests of southwestern Ethiopia. This biodiverse area is poorly known, though it is threatened by habitat destruction. It hasn't been introduced beyond this range, except in botanical gardens or private collections.

The genus Scadoxus, commonly called "blood lilies," was named by Constantine Samuel Rafinesque (1783-1840), an autodidact and eccentric natural historian who deserves an entire post of his own. The etymology isn't clear, though doxus is Greek for "glory" and there is something glorious about the large umbels of handsome vermilion flowers. All nine species of Scadoxus are native to various regions of Africa. S. nutans has two unusual features that set it apart from its congeners: first, as the specific epithet suggests (nutans means "nodding"), its inflorescence faces downward; and second, it grows most often as an epiphyte, exploiting the nutrient-rich pockets of organic matter that collect in the crotches and rough bark of trees. An epiphytic bulb?! Yes. (Well, technically it's a rhizome.) Scadoxus nutans is one of a handful of amaryllids that grow epiphytically (including some Hippeastrum, like H. auriculum iand the bat-pollinated H. calyptratum, and Pamianthe peruviana).

I acquired a seedling three years ago and this autumn it sent up its first flower stalk. The plant is reportedly slow to propagate by seed: the fruits can take many months to ripen and from seed it may take 4-5 years until the first bloom. I certainly didn't mind waiting. The plant is quite attractive: robust stems speckled with rust-colored spots and beautiful lanceolate leaves with somewhat wavy margins. The flowers are not as brightly colored as those of other Scadoxus species.

Despite its rarity, Scadoxus nutans isn't terribly difficult to cultivate. Although it comes from high-elevation forests, I've found this plant to be relatively temperature-tolerant. It summers outdoors, but benefits from afternoon shade. Overall, I treat it a bit like an orchid. A loose growing mix (I use a blend of potting soil, perlite, and mid- to large-grade orchid bark) with good drainage is a must. During the growing season (spring and summer), I water and fertilize it liberally. When growth slows down in the fall, I let it dry out a bit more. The flowering season is November through February. These aren't easy to find, but if you are interested in unusual plants I highly recommend adding one to your collection.

Further reading:
Friis, I. & Bjørnstad, I.N. (1971). "A New Species of Hamemanthus (Amarylladaceae) from Southwest Ethiopia," Norwegian Journal of Botany 18: 277-230.
Hutchinson, Jonathan. (2014) "Scadoxus of central and east Africa," The Plantsman 13 (1): 36–42. 
Hutchinson, J. and Wondafrash, M. (2011), 699. SCADOXUS NUTANS. Curtis's Botanical Magazine, 28: 23–31.  



  

Nepenthes from seed update

It's been almost a year and my Nepenthes seedlings were beginning to crowd their pots, so it was time to separate them. I selected the most colorful or most robust seedlings and repotted them into seed trays where they'll have a little more room to grow. There must have been 200+ seedlings and I'll probably end up tossing the smaller, weaker ones and giving away some of the others. 

This represents a tiny fraction of the total seedlings...

We all know about the variation of seed-grown plants, but it's something else to experience it firsthand. Aside from differences in size and vigor, the seedlings are already showing variations in color. Some are bright green while neighboring plants are flushed with red. I even spotted a variegated seedling:

Variegation!

This is the most anxiety-inducing seedling. The variegation may not be stable and the plant could end up looking like any other as it matures. Worse, variegated plants like this are notoriously weak and there's a chance it will limp along and eventually die. With any luck, it will grow into a beautiful variegated Nepenthes. I'll be keeping a close eye on this one! 

Meanwhile, the rest of the collection is enjoying the interminably cool, rainy spring that we're experiencing here in southern New England (their human custodian would prefer to see at least a little sun and not have to wear a sweater in May). Here are two more Nepenthes that are looking good at the moment:

That is N. maxima x mira. I acquired this as a small plant and was initially unimpressed with its pitchers: the thin peristomes looked nothing like the N. rajah-esque scalloped and flared peristome of EP's cross. (You can get a sense of how thin the peristomes were on the dying pitcher in the background.) But it's starting to look better!  The newest pitchers have really jumped in size and are developing wide, cherry-red peristomes.

And that's N. veitchii x burbidgeae, one of the most beautiful Nepenthes in my collection. It seems to get its coloration, from the speckling on the pitcher to the candy-striped peristome, from its pollen parent, while the overall shape takes after the seed parent. It's a slow but steady grower and holds its pitchers for a very long time.
 

Tiny orchids

When someone mentions the word "orchid," the imagination conjures up images of large, colorful or even gaudy blossoms that ooze exoticism and sensuality. But Orchidaceae is one of the largest and most diverse families of flowering plants, with nearly 30,000 species. Those big, showy flowers represent only a fraction of that diversity.
I admit that my taste in orchids is peculiar. I'm not particularly attracted to the in-your-face display of, say, a Cattleya. It's the kind of flower that commands attention, a botanical prima donna. It's also the kind of flower that seems to cater to our own vanity, a flower fit for human consumption. Instead, I'm attracted to tiny, weird, and easily overlooked flowers. The kind that force us to bend, twist, and squint to get a good view. The kind that hide fascinating tales of evolution within their petals. There's something humbling about having to make a physical or intellectual effort to appreciate a tiny flower. So to satisfy my curiosity, I've developed quite a collection of miniature and "micro-miniature" orchids, mostly Pleurothallids. Many of them bloom continuously, others bloom in flushes depending on the season. Here are a few, in no particular order:

Pleurothallis alata

Barbosella dusenii

Pleurothallis palliolata. I love the way these flowers look like frogs or aliens.

Stelis microchila. These flowers are truly tiny and hard to appreciate with the naked eye.

Salpistele brunnea

Stelis argentata

Lepanthopsis astrophora