A Brand-New Orchid Lady Blooms
“Do not be afraid of your phalaenopsis. They are just little jungle creatures that require about four things in order to flourish. Get the red food and the blue food and feed them every two weeks, three times with the red and one time with the blue.”
The encouraging voice was that of Dr. Arvid Underman, internist/infectious diseases, and I have met him once in my entire life. Apparently, he had read the column I wrote about the pink shrub that is an orchid of the vandaceous alliance, which Tom Brokaw sent me for my birthday.
I think “vandaceous alliance” sounds as if it might be a do-good group allied to stamp out something. Actually, the way Underman refers to it as a little jungle creature makes it sound kind of like a teddy bear, or a fuzzy, little elf that might live under a mushroom.
It was wonderfully thoughtful of Underman to call me concerning my problems with my orchids. Actually, I don’t even know if I have problems. It’s just that I’m not used to such exotica and am thus awash with terrors. In my one conversation with Underman, I asked him about his given name, Arvid. It is, he told me, of Norse origin and is sometimes heard in Russia. The word itself refers to the pointed, coned helmet worn by the Vikings. Arvid means the helmet with the wings of a great sea bird fastened to either side, as opposed to the helmet with the horns attached, which is not nearly so tony. Arvid means eagle of the woodland. Doesn’t that have a nice timbre?
I had no idea that orchids were such a hobby. A great many of you have written, giving me advice and telling me not to be afraid. Elvira Wilkinson called and told me to go to Stewart’s Orchid Gardens in Arcadia. Elvira has a large number of orchids of various kinds, and she treats them like nasturtiums and they bloom luxuriantly.
I have heard from people I haven’t heard from in ages. Mary Olive O’Daniels called and asked me if I would like to go to a meeting of the Orchid Society, and I declined politely although she says that they have some downright hilarious times. I cannot see myself rocking back and forth with glee with a bunch of orchid folks. I have a feeling I wouldn’t get their jokes and would sit sullenly by while they enjoyed each delicate nuance of orchid lore. But it was nice of Mary Olive to ask me.
I did trot right down to Stewart’s and bought the red and the blue food. You feed the phalaenopsis every two weeks, three times with the red stuff and the fourth time with the blue stuff, one teaspoonful to a gallon of water. Of course, I use one-quarter teaspoon to one quart of water.
Underman says he goes to Stewart’s and he also goes to Zuma Canyon Orchids where my charge came from. At Stewart’s, a large greenhouse is loaded with every color of gorgeous kind of orchid imaginable, great festoons of bright yellow, soft green and lavender. I also bought a dish and some nice, round rocks. This is to place the pot upon so when the water you put around the rocks evaporates, the plant will think it’s properly humid.
The instruction sheet from Stewart’s goes on to talk about light. They go into that candlefoot thing again saying the plant needs from 500 to 1,000 candles and I just slid over that part. It has to have filtered sunlight at least part of the day and prefers to have an eastern window.
In order to get it an eastern window, I would have to knock out the end of my bedroom and as far as that, I will not go. Then it says I might have to put up a nylon curtain to prevent sunburn. Well I have a south window and cotton lace curtains and I am not going to replace them with nylon. The flower will simply have to muck along with light through cotton.
When the sheet talks about watering, they tell me it helps to add some physan, one teaspoon to a gallon of water. I ran to Burkard’s and got some physan. Then, I got my one-quarter teaspoon measure and opened the opaque plastic bottle of physan. I expected it to be a powder so I turned the bottle sideways. It was not powder. It was liquid. Most of the bottle sloshed on my shins and the bathroom rug, but I salvaged one-quarter of a teaspoon and added it to the water. When I read the side of the physan bottle, I read that it was a disinfectant, sanitizer, deodorizer, fungicide and algaecide. I didn’t look up that last one and I’m not going to.
I think the reason the column about my poor little vandaceous alliance member caused such a stir is because I said it was a present from Tom Brokaw, a first-class newsman and all-round good fellow. I think people were amazed that a quiet little mouse such as I had such a world-renowned friend. It goes to show you just can’t tell.
My friend Miriam Kipnis, who knows some of my little character faults, thinks I should put the flower up for adoption, and she knows a lady who has a real way with these things. No, I think I’ll fumble my way through with the help of my instruction sheet, Elvira and Dr. Underman with the wings on his helmet.
I’ll tell you two things, though. I’m not going to toss out my cotton lace curtains and I will never have fungus on my shins.
