An Exciting Morning in the Greenhouse,
or Why I Grow Orchids

On this gray, drizzly Tuesday morning (July 13) I went into the greenhouse at 8:00 AM to look around. The Stanhopea oculata had seven large buds that looked as though they were about to burst open. I thought, 'This may be the day'. I bought this plant as a small seedling at one of our shows, perhaps in 1996, and this was to be its first bloom. It was now in an eight inch square wooden basket, and the inflorescence was hanging down through the bottom slats slightly off center. 

I returned to the house and came back to the greenhouse at 8:30. One of the sepals was now slightly separated on one edge, and as I watched it suddenly popped loose. 

I opened the greenhouse door and called to Marcia, who happened to be looking out the bedroom window, 'Honey, the Stanhopea is opening . I can actually see it move!'. 

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Marcia joined me in the greenhouse and the seven buds opened before our eyes. By 9:00 AM all the flowers were largely open. On this orchid the flower hangs face down and is about five inches wide. It has three large sepals, two smaller petals and a fascinating lip which is too complex for me to describe. When fully opened the petal are reflexed back, wrapping around the central sepal. This took about another hour to be complete. 

According to Marcia (I am a little color blind) the color is a very pale yellowish green with purplish-mahogany spots. The spots are irregular in shape and are not solid. There is a bright yellow splash of color at the base of the column which even I can see, and two dark brown almost circular 'eyes', one on either side of the column. Of course the Latin oculus means eye which explains the origin of the name of this species. 

All Stanhopeas that I am familiar with have a very strong aroma, and this one is no exception. I don't know if this is universal for the genus but I suspect it is. Marcia and I agree that the dominant odor is chocolate. I smell a mint undertone as well, but Marcia doesn't detect it. This evening the aroma fills the greenhouse but is not overwhelming as some Stanhopeas (such as tigrina) are. 

Stanhopea flowers are also very short lived, typically two or three days at most. Knowing that the flowers are probably of short duration doesn't lessen their appeal to me. Some plants have very long-lived flowers which, after a time, are ignored and go unnoticed by me, becoming a part of the background. Stanhopea flowers accost me with their bizarre beauty and aroma so that I can't miss them. I suspect that they would become oppressive after a time and would lose their appeal if they lasted too long. By Friday afternoon the flowers had gone by. Because of other pressing events I didn't get a chance to take a picture of them. 

I can't help wondering what the mechanism is that makes the flowers open so rapidly. Perhaps there is a growth spurt on the inside faces, or a contractile force on the outside faces of the sepals and petals, thus forcing them to turn outward. I will probably never know, but that doesn't stop me from being glad I took up orchid growing as a hobby.

Marty Epstein

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View a photo sequence of Marty's opening flower cluster here!

Some Stanhopea Links
The Strange Stanhopea Orchids	Click the image to learn more about repotting Stanhopeas
The Stanhopea Pages
The orchid photo page (weird species)
AOS Culture Sheets
Please let us know of any other Stanhopea sites that we may add here

A Celebration of Stanhopeas

Marty Epstein's essay in a recent Newsletter made me sit down and babble about this latest passion of mine. Many years ago, I told Mary that even though I loved the big beasts, we only really had room for two or three adults in our small greenhouse. Woops! Now we have scores (50? 60?), from large baskets down to tiny seedlings from Doug Pulley, a breeder from California. 

I guess it's that sudden flower opening that Marty talked about that initially grabs many of us. I remember hanging a plant of S. intermedia in our kitchen very early one morning, so that I could drink tea and still keep a sharp eye on those bulging buds. I stared. I wasn't distracted. It twitched: soon! Then I heard Mary coming downstairs - turned away to call her for the show - looked back - and they had popped almost completely open, literally in one or two seconds. And then the odor poured out! 

Most of the ones I've grown open suddenly to about half-way, and then complete the job over an hour or so. Some are blindingly fast. There is a (possibly apocryphal) tale of some S. tigrina flowers opening not only fast, but with a distinct "pop" (Stanhopea sonic boom?). I'm still waiting for that experience. 

Click on the photo to see a larger image

These days, I really look forward to the odors. With age, sensitivity to scents frequently decreases, and Stanhopeas really assist by producing large quantities of luscious perfume. Dodson once described S. tricornis as smelling much like a Dior version, but tricornis itself has a distinct and haunting fragrance. We have avoided growing S. graveolens until recently because of its methyl indole component (the chemists will now all go "yuch"); maybe it won't be so bad. Even S. inodora, in spite of its name, has a delicate and lovely scent. 

It's true that individual spikes last only three or four days (though Dodson mentions cool upper-altitude forms that may stretch to a week), but in a way, that short life is part of their appeal. It forces one to look carefully at the flowers, and soak in the strangeness of construction. Even their plant size is not really a major problem. Big plants frequently will improve flowering if they are broken into smaller chunks, and some species will throw spikes when very small. The distinctive white-flowered forms like S. reichenbachiana and S. grandiflora flower for me in quite small baskets. 

Most are easy to grow; we hang the majority up high in our tall lean-to, where they act as shade for slippers, etc.. Most seem to be very happy under bright, moist, intermediate conditions. Considering that they are among the most bizarre and beautiful members of a family known for bizarre beauty, they are no picky or difficult. 

Click on the photo to see a larger image

One problem, it is a problem, is determining reasonable names for specimens. A great new help is Barney Greer's book from Australia, but even those excellent color photos of the species and many of the natural hybrids won't suffice. I've been accumulating botanical illustrations of lip structures, and at time (maybe!) I think I might make reasonable identifications if anyone has an unknown in bloom. (I enjoy that kind of puzzle; not surprising for a taxonomist). 

 If you want to get started on these lovelies, try one of the old reliables (S. wardii, S. oculata ) or look for S. embreei. It's relatively new, but vigorous, large-flowered, showy, easy, floriferous, odorous, and generally an all-round winner.

Michael Wirth

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