My love affair with orchids began the day I received my first phaleonopsis from my brother-in-law, David, a flower grower who just last week passed away at the young age of 62. I miss him so much and will never forget our encounter over orchids.
The Beginning of My Orchid Story
He kissed me on the cheek and said, “Now don’t kill it!”
This comment, made more than 20 years ago, was part joke, part warning. I’d been the laughing stock of my husband’s family – all very adept growers. Most people kill plants because they water them too much. I kill them because I simply forget to water them.
I promised David I’d work hard to keep the orchid alive. We had a special rapport, that orchid and I, which lasted until three months later, when it went dormant and stopped flowering. Initially, I claimed my orchid stopped flowering because I’d loved it to death.
My Recovery Orchid
After that orchid died, there was a few-year hiatus before my passion was rekindled. Years later, while recovering from breast cancer surgery, I received my second orchid, which outlasted all the cut flowers. As a believer that things happen for a reason, I saw this as a message. I thought that like the orchid, I too would survive.
The orchid lived on my bedside table for a few months. As time went on, I became more and more intrigued by its magical beauty. It calmed me when I was nervous and dispensed a positive and healing energy. That orchid flowered until the next orchid made its way through my front door, a gift from my friend, Janet, the day before I turned 50.
A Passion Develops
That orchid and I had a fruitful few months together until it was replaced by another equally beautiful one. Soon, I realized that my love affair with orchids was moving from infatuation to deep affection, so I began studying the plant.
I joined the American Orchid Society and ordered books by others sharing a similar passion. Armed with those, I learned that for some inexplicable reason orchids have been known to elicit deep passion, perhaps it’s their erotic and flamboyant shapes and colors.
I learned that in some parts of the world they’ve been transformed into talismans, amulets, good luck charms and have been thought to ward off evil spirits, improve health, increase courage and virility.
Orchids and Humanity
Anthropologists proclaim that a broom made from the pseudobulbs and foliage of a Dendrobioum should be used to sweep the house after the death of one of its inhabitants. This gesture prevents death from claiming the lives of other members of the family.
In China, the Dendrobium nobile orchid was greatly esteemed in the Han Dynasty. It was also considered an aphrodisiac which possessed remarkable properties, favoring the body’s yin and also being an active ingredient for a long life. This inspired me to buy an orchid for a dear friend dying of cancer.
Unfortunately, Barbara died two weeks after she received my orchid. When her husband phoned to tell us of her passing, in between sobs he said how much pleasure the orchid had brought her. Orchids, by their simplistic beauty, do that. They bring pleasure.
A few weeks later, Jim phoned back to inquire about how to care for the orchid. A smile swept across my face, as I realized that he, too, had fallen in love with the orchid’s magic.
My Orchid Story Continues
Months later I visited The Santa Barbara Orchid Show and almost immediately invested in two very exotic orchids, each one a hundred and fifty dollars. My husband thought me crazy, but I swore this was a worthwhile investment.
I read up on the exotic lady slipper orchids and followed all the growing and care instructions. Yet, I missed the part that said, that unlike most orchids, it did not like drying out completely between waterings. Within a month, the plant began losing flowers and its leaves began drooping.
Twenty years ago, in the midst of my orchid’s crisis, by brother-in-law, David, and his wife, Kim, came over for dinner. Watching me prepare a three-course meal and catching up on our family’s goings on, I saw him give a glance at the orchid sitting on the corner of my kitchen counter. I knew that he thought it was already doomed.
“David, I bought an expensive orchid at the orchid show so it would last longer.”
There was a silent pause before he smirked and said, “Diana, it doesn’t work that way. It’s the exotic ones which require special attention; the less expensive ones are easier.” Only then did I realize the logic in his words, and boy did I feel like a stupid older sister.
“Oh,” I said, burying my face in my hands. I didn’t want to admit that I’d killed yet another orchid, but I decided not to lose hope. I knew I’d done my best to keep it alive and would try harder next time.
It was too late to stop loving orchids; they’d already pierced a hole in my heart and created a passion that will never wilt unless the universe keeps messaging me to just give up and find another flower to love, but I don’t think that’s possible.
Of course, now that my brother-in-law is gone, it’s time to buy a new orchid and raise it in a way that would make him proud. And I think I will do this for his birthday on December 17th.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Have you cared for an orchid? What variety was it? How well did you do? Do you have a special orchid story, or a flower story? Please share it with the community!
