Perennial preoccupation
EVERY flower is remarkable, yet some are so luscious, so intriguing that you must have your own. And not one, but many. Thus an obsession is born.
Clivias are the objects of true obsession. Since the early 1800s, when the first clump was scooped from a South African forest floor and sent back to England, these splendid perennials with radiant flowers have been coddled and guarded, even passed down as heirlooms. Then as now, rabid collectors have traveled far and paid freely to acquire them.
But unlike tropical orchids and other treasures that need capable attention, clivias are undemanding, adaptable and difficult to kill. They are glorious in and out of flower, and durable as diamonds.
In cold climates, clivias are grown in containers, inside homes or under glass. They love being contained and flower best when pot-bound, a good thing for gardeners with limited space. Where winters are gentle, they thrive outdoors in pots and in the ground. Clustered spring flowers give way to a sputnik of handsome, long-lasting berries. Other than freezing temperatures, direct hot sun is their only enemy.
Clivias are problem solvers. They’re neat, with narrow strap-shaped leaves and thick, water-storing roots. They thrive in dim and difficult spots where other plants turn peaked.
The old bed of clivias in the Sherman Oaks garden of Steve and Leslie Hartman stands resplendent in the constant shade and nutritious duff of two colossal deodar cedars. Divisions from the same mother plant (which came with the house in 1978), they have look-alike flowers that open in sync at the start of each spring.
The Hartmans water by hand, as needed: a lot during dry, windy periods and not at all in winter, providing it rains. Fertilizing is done “randomly” in spring and summer. Flanked by also-venerable azaleas, sword ferns and callas, these clivias couldn’t look healthier or more at home.
All clivias are native to southern Africa. The pendent tubular flowers of four species -- C. nobilis, C. caulescens, C. gardenii and the recently discovered C. mirabilis -- are pollinated by sunbirds, the Old World equivalent of hummingbirds.
C. miniata, the sole species with trumpet-shaped flowers, is by far the most common. Its flame-hued chalices face upright, inviting insects to sample their contents. Early crosses between C. miniata and other clivia species yielded the Cyrtanthiflora types, with tubular pendulous flowers in sunset shades.
Once, only the wealthy could own clivias, and only the super-rich used them en masse in their landscapes because they are slow to grow, and flowering-size plants have always been costly.
Only the richest and most obsessed collectors could possess an exceptionally rare yellow clivia. Seeds and offsets of yellows once sold for hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars.
The scenario has changed -- somewhat. These days, C. miniata cultivars are found at reasonable prices in every garden center. Chance discoveries of yellow clivias in the wild still generate a tsunami of interest, but nurserymen such as Joe Solomone in Central California (www.cliviahybrids.com) produce yellow clivias reliably from seed, and tissue-cultured yellows, bred by the Japanese, will soon hit the market. No longer scarce, yellow clivias still bring premium but far lower prices.
So what’s new to stoke the passion of enthusiasts? Plenty. Large-flowered C. miniata hybrids are still the rage, but pastels are in, topped by peaches, pinks, creams and green. Also popular: brick tones and deep reds.
Modern breeders are using old techniques and current genetic insights to create infinite variations on a seemingly simple theme. Boosted by the Internet, plants and seeds are disseminated rapidly, along with knowledge and fervor.
Victor Murillo of Fallbrook is a rising star in the world of clivias. His first triumph, ‘Victorian Peach,’ a patented seed strain sold by Sunlet Nurseries, led to his own breeding program under the banner Murillo’s Exquisite Clivias. He aims for specific characteristics and documents his crosses carefully. ‘Danielle’ is a selection with miniature butter-yellow flowers; his ‘Green Eyed Lady’ has huge pumpkin-orange trumpets with pale green throats.
“Worldwide, Victor’s pastel hybrids now command the dollars that yellows used to bring,” says Harold Koopowitz, professor of ecology and environmental biology at UC Irvine and author of the definitive “Clivias.” “Except in Southern California. Here, they’re a steal.”
Santa Barbara’s David Conway is famous for sweet pastels (‘Tessa’ is one), the dwarf orange ‘Munchkin’ and legendary reds (including ‘Sabrine Delphine,’ with deep burgundy berries). His breeding program is casual: “The March winds pollinate the flowers, the roof rats clean off the berries, and the scrub jays distribute the seed.”
James Comstock is a Southern California landscape designer, contractor and photographer whose images grace Koopowitz’s book. He maintains three growing grounds and detailed records. “Jim’s become a real breeder,” Koopowitz says. “He has a vision and knows it may take several generations.”
Comstock’s goals are far-ranging. He envies breeders who go in one direction, citing Randy Baldwin of San Marcos Growers in Santa Barbara (www.smgrowers.com) for sticking with his dependable seed strain of yellow hybrids.
Some collectors focus on foliage. Joe Dana, a Monrovia hobbyist, adores flowers, but interesting leaves are his obsession. His 1,350 clivia clones, including variegated gems, share space on a third-acre with a massive assemblage of uncommon plants with amazing foliage.
In South Africa, Rudo and Wessel Lotter concentrate on Cyrtanthiflora types, repeat bloomers with pendulous blossoms of intense coloration.
Asian growers are crazy for clivias but prone to a different sense of beauty. They cultivate odd forms: micro-miniatures and pygmies, giant flowers on squat spikes, variegated leaves with strict patterns, foliage with protruding veins or reptilian corrugation.
“The Japanese prefer stocky plants with leaves that hook down past the pot,” says Koopowitz. “The Chinese like short, flat, round, shiny horizontal leaves ranked atop each other like a stack of pancakes.”
The clivia-obsessed have formed clubs in South Africa, New Zealand and North America (www.northamericancliviasociety.org). Collectors share their treasures. A formal registrar records new cultivars. The South African group, the largest and oldest of the lot, has even issued a spiffy “Clivia Colour Chart,” based on the Royal Horticultural Society’s criteria, to help with descriptions.
“One must be careful, though, as clivia flowers don’t have constant color,” Koopowitz says. “Color can vary according to where a plant is grown, at different times of day or as flowers age.”
Those who dabble in clivia breeding know it’s a drawn-out process. Pollination is easy, but the seeds, which look like slightly flattened chickpeas, take months to ripen. Seedlings germinate readily but won’t flower for three or four years.
Murillo, whose 8-year-old collection has grown to about 700 cultivars and 15,000 seedlings, is at peace with his obsession. “I’m creating a work of art, a living thing that’s never been here before and that people can enjoy in their landscapes. It’s very rewarding.”
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From royal roots
What’s in a name? More than meets the eye. The genus Clivia was named in 1828 for Lady Charlotte Florentia Clive, the duchess of Northumberland, in whose London hothouse the then recently discovered plant first flowered. Owing to this root, the name is properly pronounced with the first I long.
The common name “kaffir lily” is, unfortunately, still used in literature and on some nursery tags. The word “kaffir” is a racial epithet in South Africa and deserves total excision. “Forest lily” can be substituted, but the simpler “clivia” is short, sweet and should suffice.
The history of the clivia will be further explored tonight by professor Harold Koopowitz, who will speak and sign his book “Clivias” (Timber Press, $34.95) at the meeting of the Southern California Horticultural Society, Friendship Auditorium, 3201 Riverside Drive, L.A. 7:30 p.m. Free. (818) 567-1496.
-- Lili Singer
