The most difficult part of writing this article about my favourite orchid was choosing one to write about. It's like writing about your favourite child. First, Barb narrowed things down for me, and for any of you who write about your favourite, by restricting the topic to plants which have bloomed three years running. Of course, this rule restricts me to plants I grow, that I grow well and that I have had for some time. My favourite orchid when I saw it was Rene's Coelogyne massangeana. A few months ago, it was Barb's Paphinia cristata, a giant red dragon's mouth of an orchid growing on a tiny plant. This week it's the milky white, pendant and fragrant flowers of Mary and Chris's Coelogyne mossii (I'm not sure of the spelling). But I still have a soft spot for Mary and Chris's Catesetum ventricosum: giant, waxy, super fragrant shaded a gentle yellow-green.
Of those I do flower consistently, I anguished over whether to tell you about the intriguing pendant chain of copper coloured, orange spice scented flowers of my Gongora galeata or the regal purple striped flowers of my Paphiopedelum callosum. Another half dozen like Encyclia fragrans, Paphiopedelum sukhakulii and Brassia longissima got scratched off the list with a great act of will before I chose to write about Cymbidium Nila x pumila album. It must be a favourite to be the only hybrid on my list. Here's why.
The intrigue we find in any plant resides partly in our history with it. I found this plant growing with dozens of other identical plants in a back yard greenhouse heated by piped hot air from a coal furnace in the owner's house twenty feet away. The house is in what was central Czechoslovakia near the Polish border. The greenhouse benches overflowed with dozens of specimens of this plant and Paphiopedelum insigne, which I also had difficulty crossing off my list. Both are cool growers and suit the climate here and in that Czech greenhouse.
Mr. Kalous, the owner of the greenhouse, works for the Czech government as manager of a large greenhouse complex that grows certain plants in large quantities: poinsettias, roses, cymbidiums. He grows lots of other orchids in a small lean-to growing room attached to his house, but the greenhouse full of hundreds of specimens of just two plants was impressive. We arranged a trade. He would send me back to Canada with an arm load of coveted plants, and I would mail him paphs and odontoglossums he could not find in Europe. This was back when paphs could legally cross borders.
With all the cymbidiums Kalous grew, he gave freely of the pseudobulbs from Cymbidium Nila x pumila album. I arrived home in 1991 with a great chunk of this plant, along with 40 others. It grew like a weed when spring came and it could sit outside from May until November in all kinds of weather. New growths appear at the rate of about four every spring, and fatten to maturity by fall with very little help. It loves to be wet, so the rain that pours through its medium suits it well.
At times, I have treated it poorly enough to kill it. For starters, I have never repotted it. This spring, I promise! I travelled out of the country for a two month period one summer and just left it on the deck in full sun with no fertilizer. Rain kept it alive. That winter, it bloomed on three spikes with only several fewer flowers than usual. Last fall, the temperature outside dropped to minus six Celsius one night. The cymbidium dropped a few old leaves, but bloomed from two spikes. I must admit, some of the buds developed poorly.
Two other facts seal its reputation as one tough cookie: its ability to withstand insects and its facility to propagate. The plant has survived attacks by those dreaded bush snails, as well as by sowbugs and aphids. One day while hunting down a snail, I broke off a back bulb. I tossed the bulb into the terrarium on my light stand where the humidity would be high and forgot about it. A few months later, a small plant with huge roots emerged from the bottom end of the bulb. I now have a tiny, but growing replica of the adult plant.
This year, I managed to get it inside before freezing temperatures hit. The plant has three extra fat spikes with 12, 12 and 15 buds that are growing like mad. They will bloom by the end of February and last for at least two months, perfect for curing the mid-winter blahs. Every year, it seems to last just long enough to make a splash at the spring orchid show. In fact, in 1993, it won best plant in the show with four spikes.
I'm not too certain it should have won, but it did deserve the admiration it got from orchid society members and the public. Inflorescence rise up from the base of the pseudobulbs and arch in a perfect half circle toward the ground to match the arching leaves. The flowers sit perky along each stalk just far enough apart so each is clearly visible. The elongated ovals of the sepals and petals are a delicious, vibrant light green. The lip is creamy white with a hint of green and spotted with large golden flecks. It extends out and widens into a ruffled, inviting edge that turns up at the edges and down in front, contrasting with the narrow sepals and petals. By the way, this somewhat boat-shaped lip (come on, use your imagination) is what gives the family its name: cymbid is Greek for boat. The contrast of the cream and bright green against the dark leaves, as well as the arching display, seemed to be the features that impressed the visitors to the spring show.
The plant is certainly not perfect. For one thing, the petals and sepals seem to curl at the edges as the flowers age. I don't think this is caused by growing conditions because it happens so consistently. For another, the flowers are only slightly fragrant at certain times of the day, and even then, the fragrance is not especially attractive. It's a so-so faint aroma.
Like many cymbidiums, it loves lots of water, food and sun all year round (it seems to be active 12 months of the year) and it loves to be cool on summer nights and through the fall and winter to initiate, produce and maintain buds and flowers. Water and feed this plant heavily, grow it in full sun (while trying to keep the roots cool), cool it off during our cold seasons, and it will grow like a weed. Because it loves water, the potting mix contains a water retaining substance, in this case a mix of peat and soil, along with the regular bark pieces for good drainage, a bit of charcoal for sweetness and some gravel to line the bottom. I have allowed this cymbidium to grow until it is straining the sides of the pot with growth. It has pushed its plastic pot into an oval. For that reason it no longer holds water as well, and it needs repotting.
This particular plant is considered a miniature in the world of cymbidiums, although its evergreen leaves are two feet long. Miniature cymbidium hybridizing began about 50 years ago in England and 40 years ago in the US. Cymbidium pumilum, a native of China, was in the first miniature cymbidiums ever hybridized in both countries. My Cymbidium Nila x pumila album is made from the white form of Cymbidium pumilum. I don't know anything about the Nila half of the parentage, itself a hybrid. Perhaps one of you can tell me more.
So, it's an unlikely half Chinese hybrid grown in a country that no longer exists, Czechoslovakia, and now at home half a world away, that tops my list of my favourite orchids. In a sense, this plant has travelled three continents to find a home at the eastern fringe of North America. Suited to the climate, easily grown, free flowering, unusual form and colour, attractive evergreen foliage, pest resistant, easily propagated, interesting history -- what more can an orchid grower ask for? Tell us about your favourite.
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