I don’t remotely understand orchids. Maybe that’s why I like them so much. I currently only have three, but the things are a constant source of consternation. Why doesn’t one grow? Why is one dying? Are they moist enough? Are they dry enough?

You get the picture.

Then there’s this specimen…


And by the way, I don’t name them. I may stick appellations on everything else that will stand still long enough, but not the orchids. No idea why.

So, this particular orchid has been with me for a little over a year. When it was gifted me, the two plants in the basket stood over a foot and the blooms… my gosh, the blooms scared the shit out of me. I knew at first sight that to entrust such a beauty to my care was tantamount to pulling the metaphorical trigger.
And I did; it died. Or rather they died, both of them.

After a short memorial I brought the remains into the house and plopped them into a pot filled with orchid media. Never hurts to mourn in the comfort of one’s home.

One of them suddenly came to life, amazing and delighting me no end. It sent out those lovely aerial roots and new buds of green slowly emerged. I was happy. Then, just as suddenly, without any change of light or watering schedule, they withered and died.

I almost threw the whole mess away. But I performed a vicious cut back and waited to see what would happen.

Sure enough, the sister plant shot out new growth, pictured above.

Isn’t that something? Or am I just too easily amused by things like plants too stupid to die and cheap replica watches?