moth orchid

One of the orchids on the kitchen window sill is coming back into bloom.  I followed the advice in the gardening columns and cut the flower stem back to the next joint below the flowering section, after the last time it bloomed, and then it did nothing for an extraordinarily long time.  I even fed it occasionally with special orchid food, which comes in the form of garish crystals in a tiny pot with an equally tiny spoon whose handle is just too long to fit comfortably inside the pot.  I was beginning to think that perhaps I'd had my lot from that orchid, since a kitchen window in north Essex is not very close to its natural growing conditions, when suddenly the buds at the joints of the old stalk began to thicken, and the plant threw not just one but two new flowering stems from the base.  Now the first flower is fully open, a fleshy confection in pale lilac with deeper lilac veining, and a rosy magenta core.

It is only a supermarket moth orchid, of the sort that the RHS won't even attempt to appraise for the Award of Garden Merit because they are not sold with reliable cultivar names attached.  And the disadvantage of keeping it on the window sill is that the flowers naturally turn to the light, so that all I see of the flower is its pink reverse, unless I swivel the pot slightly.  I am cautious about turning it too far because I've read that a drastic shift in the light source can cause the buds to drop off, but I can look sidelong into the flower when I'm doing the washing up.  There are eleven buds still to open, and some small developing side shoots.

Its neighbour, my other orchid, looked even less promising, having levered itself perilously out of its pot until it dangled low over the sink, while its snipped off old flower stem remained resolutely dormant.  I said to the Systems Administrator that it might be time to buy a new orchid, and the SA should not mind if I got rid of it in case it was one the SA had given me, and the orchid must have heard me, because shortly afterwards it too began to produce a new stem, while the joints of the old one began to swell slowly and reluctantly with new buds.  After making an effort like that I thought I'd better repot it, and was pleased to be able to find a bag of half used orchid compost in the garage, since a new one from a garden centre that took gardening seriously enough to stock specialist composts would have cost me about as much as an entire new orchid from B&Q.

Orchid compost is funny stuff, appearing to consist almost entirely of chopped bark as far as I can see.  I shook the old lumps of bark off the roots, trimmed out those roots that looked dead, and wedged the orchid back in its pot as upright as it would go, anchoring some of its plentiful supply of aerial roots to try and wedge it more firmly.  Later I read in an old RHS magazine that I should not have done that since they would rot, but I'm not convinced, not in the top couple of inches of the chopped bark.  It's pretty aerated in there and doesn't sit wet.

I can't remember where I did get these two orchids.  The SA has given my a couple over the years, though my comments before Christmas that I wouldn't mind another one did not result in a third (but I did get a new digital bedside clock radio that automatically resets the time after power cuts, so I'm not grumbling).  I once bought one reduced to a fiver in B&Q, and my mother re-gifted one to me that had been given to her, saying that none of her windows offered the right combination of light, warmth and humidity and that they always died.  But which the lucky survivors are I couldn't say by now.  I do like orchids, though.  The rest of our house is far too cold for most types, but I might be able to squeeze a third pot in by the kitchen window.  One of my favourite scenes from Raymond Chandler is his meeting with General Sternwood in his greenhouse, surrounded by orchids. One of Chadler's too, he returned to it repeatedly, writing multiple versions.