a brief glory

The first flowering of the amaryllis was just the warm-up act.  The second flowering stem rose to twice the height of the first, so tall that if it had grown another inch the tips of the closed buds would have been bumping against the top of the window.  There were six flowers, compared to a measly two on the first stem, of which four opened together and then the last pair a couple of days later.  The great pink head was so wide that I had to move the pot from the window sill to the kitchen table, because otherwise the outward facing trumpets were pressed against the glass.  You didn't notice so much from inside, but from outside it looked bizarre, like a face squashed up against a window pane.

Alas, the glory was short-lived.  Coming downstairs yesterday morning I found the monstrous bloom hanging over the edge of the table, the stem having buckled.  I staked it with a thin cane, but the hollow stalk had split at the bottom, and now the flowers are beginning to fade.  There again, the first stem didn't last very long either.

I saw the bulb merchant who'd donated it to the garden club raffle at the last club meeting.  He seemed puzzled by my surprise and enthusiasm that the amaryllis had flowered.  I suppose, when you are a bulb merchant, that is what amaryllis are meant to do.  Apparently any high potash fertiliser will suit it, then in September I should stop watering and let it dry out for ten weeks before starting the whole cycle off again.  Although he didn't say so, I suspect he was thinking that alternatively I could buy a new one.

I don't know if the Systems Administrator will want an amaryllis living permanently on the kitchen window sill.  One of my orchids died, so there is a space.  Although I did rather fancy a new orchid.  The trouble with the amaryllis is that while it is spectacular in flower, there are going to be a lot of weeks in the year when it is not doing anything much.