Stanhopea platyceras

This Stanhopea was the reigning queen of our greenhouse the last few days. We received it with the label Stanhopea napoensis, and so I placed it in our warm greenhouse, where it was growing, but not particularly well. This year it produced one enormous bud, angular in shape, almost like an Embreea bud. When it opened, behold: our plant is actually Stanhopea platyceras.

Stanhopea platyceras looks like no other Stanhopea in our collection. The entire flower is covered with plum colored dots that coalesce into inky blackness at the far end of the hypochile.

Stanhopea platyceras is endemic to Colombia, where it has been found growing at 1000 to 1500 meters elevation. No wonder it was unhappy in our warm greenhouse (65º  F night minimum).

Until recently we grew all of our Stanhopea species together in the same intermediate temperature greenhouse (60º F night minimum). It was convenient for us, but it wasn't really in the best interests of our stanhopeas. Over time, five degrees Fahrenheit makes a huge difference to plant. So I divided the collection between two (actually three) zones. We moved our warm growers, native to areas below 1000 meters, like grandiflora, lietzii and candida, to our 65º night minimum greenhouse. Species from 1000 to 1500 meters, the majority, stayed in the intermediate greenhouse receiving 60º night minimum. Cooler growing species I try to group closer to the wet wall in our intermediate greenhouse.

This is just one way to grow Stanhopea species, tailored to a hot temperate climate like Atlanta's, where the night minimum outdoors is often 72º F in July and 20º in January. For a completely different perspective, check out Rob Laurie's blog, in which he describes growing stanhopeas outdoors year round in southern California.

Making Sense of Gongora Flowers

I'm completely smitten with this Gongora. It took two long weeks for the fully expanded buds to open, but it was worth the wait. See the how the base of the lip has an exaggerated s-shape? It's a quirky feature unique to Gongora gratulabunda (and a couple of sister species) which makes it instantly recognizable.

What about other gongoras? All gongoras share the same basic construction. The dorsal sepal is in the 6 o'clock position. The lateral sepals are reflexed away from the lip. The lateral petals are attached to the column for most of their length. And the lip is in the 12 o'clock position.

Above is a very basic diagram of a Gongora lip. Like a Stanhopea lip, it can be divided into three parts, the hypochile (hypo= below; cheilos=lip), the mesochile (meso=middle) and the epichile (epi=above). A wicked looking pair of bristles arises from the mesochile. Some species of Gongora have an abbreviated pair of horns projecting from the hypochile, but much smaller than those of Stanhopea. The lip of even the simplest Gongora is intricately constructed, like a tiny ship, and though difficult to photograph, it's definitely worth a closer inspection when you visit the Garden.

Polycycnis barbata

If there is a prettier Polycynis, I've never met it. Never mind that barbatus means 'bearded.'

How are the flowers pollinated? A euglossine bee lands on the lip (the spade shaped platform with the hairs) and moves toward the center to scratch for the fragrance. His weight pulls the entire flower down. When he launches into the air to transfer the collected fragrance from front to hind legs, he hits the tip of the column and receives the pollinarium with its sticky viscidium on  his thorax. Polycycnis barbata is pollinated by Eulema speciosa.

Polycycnis barbata grows as an epiphyte at 160 to 1500 meters, ranging from Costa Rica, south to Peru.

We grow Polycycnis barbata in our warm greenhouse (64º night minimum) in 80% shade, potted in a mixture of premium sphagnum and tree fern fiber. We repot annually when the new shoot emerges. If you like Polycycnis, check out Polycycnis muscifera here.

Stanhopea jenischiana

Stanhopea jenischiana grows as an epiphyte in very wet forests at 800 to 1500 meters elevation in northern South America and possibly southern Central America. That elevational range puts S. jenischiana among the intermediate temperature stanhopeas. Night temperatures dipping into the mid 50º's won't faze this Stanhopea.

It has two sister species, Stanhopea frymirei and Stanhopea embreei, which have very similar floral morphologies, nearly identical fragrances and share some of the same pollinators. But there is no evidence so far of overlap in their geographical distributions. S. frymirei and S. embreei both grow on the western side of the Andes, but at different elevations --S. frymirei in the warm lowlands at 50 to 500 m., and S. embreei higher in the mountains at 500 to 1200 m. elevation.

The fragrance of Stanhopea jenischiana is mostly methyl cinnamate. It is a warm fruity-floral scent lacking the tangy licorice component belonging to S. embreei.

Stanhopea wardii

Stanhopea wardii is one of a handful of Stanhopea species that is regularly available in the commercial trade. And although I wouldn't describe any Stanhopea as a true beginner's orchid for north temperate climates simply because they all require a greenhouse or tropical/subtropical climate, wardii is a good starter Stanhopea. It is one of the widest ranging in geography and elevation, from Nicaragua south through Colombia, Venezuela and northern Brazil at 800 to 2700 meters (2600 to 5300 ft.). Humid intermediate temperatures (58º night minimum) and 60% shade is what S. wardii wants. Our plants grow vigorously and flower reliably in late summer and early fall.

The two main components in the fragrance of some wardii clones are 1.8-cineole and phenyl-ethylacetate. I can hardly detect the camphorous smell of cineole in this clone, but rather a heavy honey-like scent with a hint of resin.

Laelia rubescens

Laelia rubescens flowering in the Fuqua Orchid Center

Laelia rubescens is a lovely orchid native to seasonally dry forests in Mexico and Central America. Our plants grow happily alongside Laelia purpurata and Laelia anceps in our warm greenhouse. Many of the Mexican laelias from dry upland (1600 m+)  oak forests do poorly for us on account of our hot night temperatures in spring and summer. Fortunately Laelia rubescens ranges a bit lower--sea level to 1600 m. It doesn't mind the heat at all.

There's Something About Slippers

Phragmipedium Don Wimber

The pollen masses (pollinia) are hidden behind the shield-shaped staminode in the center of the flower.

Phragmipedium Cape Sunset flowering at the Fuqua Orchid Center. The yellow pollinia are just barely visible over the top of the staminode.

How do you explain the appeal of slipper orchids? What is it about slippers that makes them irresistible?

I think it's the pouch, or toe cap, of the slipper that is the lure. Very few of our visitors can resist the urge to get closer and peer inside. What's inside that pouch? What's it for?

It's a trap, actually, for the insect that pollinates the slipper orchid. For an insect what's inside that pouch is a convoluted and probably exasperating journey in search of an exit. Once underneath the tightly inrolled lip the insect is forced behind the shield-shaped staminode where it collects or leaves behind the pollinia, and finally escapes. The pouch is a trap to ensure fertilization. No insectivory is involved.

If you love slippers you won't want to miss our spring Orchid Daze 2013 display opening February 9! Our display will feature slippers of all sizes, shapes and colors.

A Bucket Orchid Opens

Coryanthes alborosea opening at the Atlanta Botanical Garden.

Coryanthes alborosea one half hour after opening.

The right-hand flower of Coryanthes alborosea. Note the liquid already accumulating in the bucket.

If you arrive at the Fuqua Orchid Center greenhouses early in the morning you can sometimes catch a Bucket Orchid (Coryanthes) bud in the act of opening. The bud looks like an enormous wrinkled chrysalis. It usually takes a couple of hours to fully open. First, the bud splits lengthwise along its seam, then the petals and sepals reflex backward to reveal the amazing lip. Coryanthes flowers only last about three days.

Wednesday morning I photographed a pair of Coryanthes alborosea flowers as they opened. The half-opened sepals framed the lip like angel wings.

Love the furry cap.

Click here to find out how a Coryanthes flower works.

More Coryanthes in Flower

Coryanthes macrantha flowering at the Atlanta Botanical Garden

More of our extraordinary bucket orchids are flowering. Coryanthes macrantha (above) is one of the parents of the hybrid featured in my last post. You can see what the other parent looks like here. Although Coryanthes are, in my experience, among the more difficult orchids to grow, Coryanthes macrantha has always been a consistently strong grower for us.

I'm also looking forward to seeing the first flowers on the seedling offspring of Coryanthes macrantha var. alba this year.

Coryanthes, the Bucket Orchid

Coryanthes macrantha flowering at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. The genus Coryanthes is called the Bucket Orchid.

How it works. The  Coryanthes "bucket" (facing right) is part of the flower's lip, a highly modified petal. The other two petals and three sepals (left) are reflexed backwards like wings. Coryanthes flowers produce fragrance attractive to male Euglossine bees. After brushing the fragrance from the lip, the bee falls into the bucket.

The back door. After immersion in the liquid-filled bucket a bee must force his way out through a small opening at the rear where a pollen bundle is deposited on his back. 

Autumn brings a flush of new root and shoot growth to our (insert your own adjective) Bucket Orchids. A few, like Coryanthes macrantha, are far enough along in their development to produce flowers. The flower pictured above measures about four inches from top to bottom. A Coryanthes flower would make anyone stop for a second look.

Tiny Fireworks

Masdevallia herradurae flowering in the Fuqua Orchid Center

There are a few orchids that produce culinary fragrances --vanilla, lemon, chocolate, coconut, white cake icing, wintergreen, cilantro, to name a few--fragrances that I usually associate with the kitchen rather than the greenhouse. Masdevallia herradurae is the only orchid in our collection that produces a fragrance like cinnamon. Red Hots, to be precise.

When tiny Masdevallia herradurae appeared among a new shipment of plants last year I was instantly charmed by the handful of exquisite flowers that were visible. At the time I didn't bother to investigate the fragrance.

Matt Richards then installed our Masdevallia herradurae plants on a Sassafras branch in the Tropical High Elevation House. Since then I have patiently watched as they produced their first tentative roots, a new flush of leaves and finally, buds. I have been eagerly anticipating their first flowering.

At last the flowers are open.  Each tiny plant has produced between 50 and 75 flowers. The branch has hundreds of tiny flowers. Masdevallia herradurae is a magnificent bloomer.

What was totally unexpected about this burst of tiny fireworks was the strong fragrance of cinnamon. No other Masdevallia in our collection is strongly fragrant of anything (at least to me), let alone something tasty. I have fallen in love with this orchid all over again.

Masdevallia herradurae is easy to grow. It grows over a fairly wide elevational range in Colombia and Ecuador: 500 to 2100 meters. I suspect it would adapt well to intermediate temperatures in a humid environment. If you're growing Masdevallias under lights you may want to give this terrific orchid a try.

Autumn Laelias

Laelia perrenii flowering at the Fuqua Orchid Center

It's easy to forget during the mid-summer Laelia purpurata explosion that not all Laelias flower in summer. One of my autumn favorites is Laelia perrenii, flowering now in the Fuqua Orchid Center.

Laelia perrenii is a warm to hot-growing Brazilian species that is much less common in cultivation than the enormously popular L. purpurata. The ragged margin on the upper part of the lip gives the flower a totally distinctive look, like torn fabric. It is an undemanding orchid, easy to grow in a greenhouse that is hot, bright and dryish. For most of the year our two plants are hard to spot among the hundred or so Laelia purpurata in our back up greenhouse, but when they flower in autumn I always wish that we had bunches of them. Definitely time to set a capsule on Laelia perrenii. You can see this wonderful orchid on display right now in the Orchid Display House.

The Most Beautiful Orchid

The gorgeous Paphinia herrerae flowering in the Fuqua Orchid Center

I love this plant. Paphinia herrerae is one of a handful of orchids that I think of as the Fuqua Orchid Center's signature plants. It is perhaps my favorite among all of our orchids.

Paphinia herrerae is one of the Fuqua Orchid Center's most beautiful orchids.

The flowers are pendant and best seen from below. It's hard to capture the shimmering translucent quality of Paphinia's petals and sepals. The margins of the petals are ever so slightly wavy--like a delicate handkerchief. Absolutely breathtaking.

Paphinia herrerae flowers in autumn in the Fuqua Orchid Center

We obtained our first plant in 1990 and subsequently propagated it by seed in the Atlanta Botanical Garden's laboratory. The resulting seedlings were an astonishing mixture of plants with pure white, rosy tinged, or deep rose flowers. They are all wonderful.
You won't want to miss the Paphinias in flower. You can see them this fall from October through December in the Orchid Display House.

Coryanthes, you make me crazy.

The fabulous but frustrating Bucket Orchid (Coryanthes)

Coryanthes are the most difficult plants I have ever grown. Clearly they are worth the effort--a fragrance that is almost edible, a grotesque (and let's face it, slightly pervy) appearance, a clever pollination mechanism, a symbiotic relation with two species of ants. But absolutely maddening in cultivation, at least in our greenhouses. The plants grow robustly for a year or so before I start to notice the subtle signs of decline: no new shoots appear, a few leaves are shed, and finally, the entire plant is leafless. If I remove the plant from its pot the root system is dead. Coryanthes make me want to bang my head against the wall.

Why? Coryanthes must be the orchid world's biggest mollusk magnets. While the adjacent pots of Phalaenopsis remain mollusk-free, it's rare to find a Coryanthes pot in any of our greenhouses that doesn't harbor at least a couple of slugs, and even worse, their minute evil cousins, the bush snails. Forget the metaldehyde, iron phosphate, beer, copper strips. It seems nothing kills these guys except the bottom of my shoe. And I have actually learned to enjoy crushing bush snails between my thumb and forefinger.

So, this summer I have applied a draconian solution--removing all the organic medium surrounding the roots and attaching our Coryanthes, young and old, to slatted cedar slabs as the new roots emerge. This is indeed a radical step since Coryanthes love moisture, plus it flies in the face of conventional wisdom which recommends mimicking an ant garden stuffed with acidic organic matter. But on these slabs the slugs & snails have nowhere to hide. And the mild but regular drying will make the Coryanthes a less appealing refuge for egg laying. That said, it's still a very humid greenhouse.

Look at those gorgeous root tips! Completely unmolested by slugs.

If the slabs look familiar to you it's because they are in fact simply the bottom of the classic cedar hanging basket sold by the major orchid supply houses. I think most people hang these slabs vertically, but I have decided to use them as rafts in order to retain a bit more moisture around the Coryanthes roots.

Time will tell whether or not this is a good cultural approach for Coryanthes.

Weird is cool.

Bulbophyllum (Cirrhopetalum) medusae

Here is orchid weirdness at its best. Something that Morticia Addams might wear as a corsage. In a genus known for offensive morbid odors and peculiar twitching parts, Bulbophyllum medusae stands out for being...graceful.

Not that it doesn't smell a bit funky--it does, as one might reasonably expect from a fly-pollinated Bulbophyllum. But the fragrance is pretty mild compared with the body-buried-under-the-stairs stench of Bulbophyllum carunculatum, or the road kill-with-bleu cheese bouquet of Bulbophyllum falcatum.

No, Bulbophyllum medusae dances rather than twitches in the breeze, an invitation to pollinators to come hither. The flower spike is a many-flowered umbel, like a globe-shaped Queen Anne's Lace. Each creamy flower has long (up to 8 inches) graceful sepals. Any twitching that occurs goes on inside the flower, each of which has a hinged petal (lip) to throw the pollinator off balance and up against the pollen masses.

It seems entirely fitting that Bulbophyllum medusae flowers at Halloween. A terrific addition to our Medusa orchid collection.

Masdevallia floribunda

Not every Masdevallia needs a cool greenhouse. This beauty shrugged off two exceptionally hot summers and rewarded us in early autumn with a microburst of flowers.

There are a  handful of Masdevallia species that are warm growers, i. e., they tolerate daytime temperatures pushing 80 degrees, Masdevallia floribunda being one of them. A hybrid with M. floribunda in its parentage can be expected to have some degree of warmth tolerance.

All right. Enough recitative. Want proof that Masdevallias are some of the most beautiful orchids on earth? Check out Gerritson & Parson's book, Masdevallias, Gems of the Orchid World.

This is a dangerous book. I'm not generally susceptible to plant lu$t (really), but I have to admit that Masdevallias get to me. And prolonged exposure to the photographs in this book makes me dizzy. Not that I want to buy all the species pictured. I just want to be around them all the time, like some sick groupie. Sell my house and move to Cuenca, Ecuador. Visit Ecuagenera every day. Okay, enough. Close the book.

If you are susceptible to this sort of thing you might be better off with Will Rhodehamel's Masdevallia Cultural Guide, which has no photographs, just the facts in plain jargon-free English. Confused about the exact meaning of "warm, intermediate and cool-growing"? Here it is. Want to know exactly how much light and humidity you need? Rhodehamel tells you. And look how plain the cover is. You can keep your house! A great guide.

Masdevallia Eye Candy

The Tropical High Elevation House is a playground of miniature orchids. A few, like this Masdevallia, are tucked into moss among the rocks. But most are on tree branches at eye level and higher. Lots of plants that grow at high elevations are quite small. Discovering an exquisite treasure like this can be a thrill for anyone who is willing to slow down and look carefully.

Many Masdevallias are teacup sized. Within this group of ~300 species and many hybrids is an astonishing variety of flower colors and shapes. They are a botanical candy shop.

 Most Masdevallias enjoy cool conditions, meaning a 52 degree night and 72 degree day. Some are fine with slightly warmer temperatures. They thrive in shady locations away from direct sun.  They like high humidity (80% R.H.) with air movement, a difficult combination that pretty much excludes your living room. Many people do well with them in small pots of sphagnum under lights in their basement, with a small oscillating fan supplying the air movement.

The Secret Language of Moth Orchids

Phalaenopsis hieroglyphica

Even if it weren't ridiculously floriferous I would still love Phalaenopsis hieroglyphica. Who can resist the idea of an ancient language inscribed on orchid petals?
You can see this beautiful Philippine orchid in flower now in the Orchid Display House.

The mysterious Phaistos Disc with Cretan hieroglyphs

And if you want to find out what the word Phalaenopsis, or any other word, looks like in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, visit Mark Millmore's site, Discovering Ancient Egypt to try out his very cool hieroglyphic typewriter.

How to Grow Andean Slipper Orchids

Phragmipedium schlimii

Bright, moist and cool(ish) just about sums it up. That may sound like a strange combination for a tropical orchid, but it isn't really. Not for an orchid that grows along mountain springs near the Equator.

When I first started growing orchids I grew the Andean Phragmipediums (Phrags) right alongside the Asian tropical slippers, the Paphiopedilums. Same greenhouse, same treatment. They're both tropical slippers, right? Same requirements!

Wrong!

Picture the lovely Andean slippers growing on a steep granite embankment at 4,000 ft in the mountains of Peru. The rocks glisten with moisture from an underground seepage. Before noon the entire hillside is flooded with sunlight. In afternoon the area is bathed in mist.
Now picture Paphiopedilum stonei growing on the island of Borneo, wedged in the crevices of limestone cliffs and shaded by the crowns of trees growing at the base of the cliffs. The air is warm and humid and the microhabitat is drier and shadier.

No wonder my Phrags wouldn't flower!

Phragmipedium besseae

Cheat Sheet for Andean Slipper Orchids 

Phragmipedium schlimii and Phragmipedium besseae

PRONUNCIATION: frag-mih-PEA-dee-um...SHLIM-ee-eye....BESS-ee-ay
ORIGIN: Colombia, Peru, Ecuador
CLIMATE/ECOLOGY: As terrestrials on continuously wet embankments exposed to morning sun in lower montane (~2,000-6,000 ft) tropical forest.
GROWTH HABIT: Fan-shaped growths without pseudobulbs
GROWTH CYCLE/REST PERIOD: No rest period
LIGHT: bright (schlimii) to moderate (besseae)
TEMPERATURE: 58 degree night minimum; 78 degree daytime maximum
POTTING MEDIUM: premium sphagnum
HUMIDITY: very high, 80%
MOISTURE: constantly moist; water with low mineral content
TIPS: Because of their requirement for high humidity these are difficult to grow well on the windowsill. Reasonably easy for greenhouse growers who can adapt their methods to the plants' needs. A bit more challenging in areas with hot summers.Want to grow them in an Atlanta greenhouse? Invest in a max-min thermometer and an evaporative cooler.

Slipper Orchid Season

Phragmipedium schlimii

Now is a great time to see Andean Slipper Orchids in full bloom in the Tropical High Elevation House.

Phragmipedium schlimii & P. bessseae grow on mossy rocks of the waterfall

The Andean Slippers Phragmipedium schlimii and P. besseae are two of the tropical counterparts of the familiar north temperate slipper, Cypripedium. (The other tropical slipper genera are Paphiopedilum, Mexipedium and Selenipedium.) In total there are about 20 species of Phragmipedium (pronounced frag-mih-PEE-dee-um) ranging from Mexico through northern South America.

Andean Slippers grow in the splash zones around waterfalls, along flowing streams and in rocky seepage areas on cool slopes in Peru, Ecuador and Colombia. We created the waterfall and the flowing stream in the Tropical High Elevation House in order to provide suitable growing conditions for these orchids. They are wonderful!