During our monthly soc-motss zoom meeting yesterday, I mentioned my cymbidium orchids, and everyone fell into mild amazement that in my physical condition I managed to grow orchids, orchids were so fussy and difficult to grow, and on and on, with stories about people they knew. With some asperity, I explained that cymbidiums were different and protested that I had been posting about them for years, with descriptions and lots of photos, over and over, but apparently no one had noticed.
So here is my Cymbidium Lecture, with this photo of what I see out the window (through some blinds, which create a somewhat Impressionist image of the scene) from where I sit as I work at my computer. What I see this very day, 4/7/25:
Five plants in bloom today (one with two flower stalks); two others in this cluster have already finished blooming for this year; and there are two other clusters of plants (visible out of other windows); behind the cymbidiums, a wall covered with English ivy, Hedera helix
Here’s the lecture. I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.
Cymbidium — the English common name is apparently boat orchid — hybrid cultivars are big tough (but not frost-hardy) orchids, with 2-foot strap-like leaves and big stalks of huge showy flowers in many colors and color combinations, blooming during short-day, cool, and wet times of the year (that is, in the winter / rainy season) and going into dormancy (while their roots and tubers grow) in hot, dry times (when hot temperatures come, traditionally in early June where I live, any remaining flowers shrivel and drop to the ground in a few days; otherwise, the buds open very slowly and then the flowers on any one stalk last a month or two).
They prefer strong indirect light (they are plants of the tropical forest floor); the northerly sheltered environment of my front patio is perfect for them.
I’ve been growing them for nearly 40 years now; most were originally birthday presents for my guy Jacques, whose birthday is in mid-January. They are easy-care plants, one of the very few that I can still grow in my disabled old age (though watering them once the rains stop takes a lot of time for me). They bring me beauty right outside my window, all winter long and through the spring; and they remind me of Jacques, who adored them, every one.
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