Category:

Photoessay: Aloe Flowers

26/7/2017

Another dig through this and last year's pics reveals a wee trove of half-forgotten images so here they are. Some of these are flowering for the first time in our garden: great success.

above: Aloe cameronii (although some peeps are calling this variant something else now, saying it was mis-ID'd in cultivation. This is the less waxy, greener form, anyway).

below: Aloe mawii in full swing. One of my faves- my plant is heading up like a freak and will soon have about 4 new points.

above: Aloe conifera
below: Aloe andongensis. A really superb non-drama species that deserves a lot more attention

above: Aloe dawei
below: Aloe speciosa detail

above: Aloe aristata (proper) just budding up. I have the straight species and not the one usually labelled as such in trade and I find it harder to grow than the latter more common plant. It loves to lose its roots for no apparent reason.
below: Aloe hemmingii. Spectacular little fellow.

above + below: Aloe Burhii, details from the amazing UFO-style flower truss that appeared last year. Another of my favourite species with its fat, spineless dinosaur leaves and delightful flowers. Undemanding and delicious.

Another couple of firsts this year: above Aloe succotrina and below Aloe pulcherrima,
an Ethiopian plant. Last image is Aloe rupicola, flowering for the second time.

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Photo du Jour: droplets on an Aloe bud

13/6/2017

Nice detail by R. I think this is an Aloe x Gold Tooth bud

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Photo du Nuit: Fucraea

1/5/2017

The streetlight throws some dramatic shit down on the Fucraea by our driveway at night.

I exaggerated the spikiness but I think I love the super-degraded version below.

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Aloe rupicola

14/12/2016

My plant was small, barely trunking and incredibly nondescript when it arrived about 5 years ago. Since then it has surprised me with a deceptively steady growth rate, developing a half-metre trunk and putting out this rather matte lizard-green rosette that extends around 80cm in diameter and trimmed with these bijoux russet spines. They're usually pretty innocuous but can certainly open up some skin if you yank your hand back the wrong way.

The leaves are pliant and remain green all year round with the exception of spring, when the lower half start to crisp and brown at the ends, presumably as stored energy is expended in expansion and flowering. Labouring under the assumption that it was some sort of dreadful pathology, I tried a number of tactics to curb this seasonal browning before coming to the conclusion that it’s just one of rupicola’s cyclic quirks. The dead leaves form a papery skirt that I leave in place just in case it helps protect against temp drops in winter.

While my rupicola enjoys a dry winter under cover, it is totally exposed to our Zone 9 winter temps which went as low as -2 ºC this year for a few days in a row. This plant wasn’t directly frosted under plastic sheeting but it was a bloody cold few days for our coastal New Zealand microclimate and this didn’t affect even the tender emergent flower stalk. I’ve actually never seen it adversely affected by cold and would rate its hardiness as comparable to Aloe speciosa, which I grow in the ground here, at least in a well-drained position.

Aloe rupicola is an odd plant, quite unlike any other in my fairly extensive collection and certainly the most dainty and singular of my tree aloes. Which is in stark contrast to its notable hardiness and vigour. Aloe rupicola misrepresents itself with the sinuous delicacy of its vaguely pinstriped leaves and slender stature; in the wild it inhabits what appears to be crappy humus pockets in a nasty old high-altitude boulder-strewn patch of Chimbango Hill in the Bié district of Angola.

Not exactly luxury living.

Mine flowered for the first time this year with the stalk emerging in late autumn/early winter, snaking slowly upward to become a brilliant coral red spike in mid-spring, which was appreciated by the local honeyeaters. The stalks apparently branch in time to form a more spectacular candelabra-type arrangement.

My overall impressions of Aloe rupicola are moderate size, attractive foliage, decent growth rate, cold-hardiness, undemanding cultivation (mine's in a shitty plastic pot with proprietary cactus mix) and ready flowering. It doesn't seem to suffer any of the spotty fungal leaf pathologies that afflict a number of other aloes in this humid coastal situation, which is an important bonus. The one thing it does not seem to appreciate is massive amounts of harshest midday sunlight, presumably because it has evolved as a semi-understorey species in open hill scrub in its native clime; mine is happiest in half day shade and/or filtered sunlight, perhaps even looking its best in these conditions.

A recommended species for those with neither the room nor the climate to accommodate the larger tree aloes and one that would look particular striking and serpentine planted in groups.

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Monday slash Tuesday slash Aloe rupicola flower pics slash hi / bye

30/8/2016

Superbusy real world week for us so I'll just drop these as-promised Aloe rupicola photos detailing my plant's first flower spike. It made it through the frost unscathed (under open shelter but unheated) and has been opening out slowly like a cobra in drag or a firecracker on quaaludes.
Will post something else midweek.
Have a good one. Last day of winter 🐳

Monday slash Tuesday slash Photos du Jour: Aloes budding up, winter 2016

11/7/2016

Midwinter lacuna. Which is not some sort of frosty camelid.

I'm totally in one right now and that's sort of alright even though I suspect it's only exercise endorphins that are standing between me and a bout of mild depression.

Should I be concerned? I can't decide. Lets look at some aloe photos. It's been a quite good year for the more difficult species with a long warm autumn inducing some nice flowering. This is Aloe fievetii from Madagascar, blooming for the second time. I blogged it a wee while back and it's been chugging along nicely. Got a branching inflorescence this time. Yay.

Aloe rupicola, as promised; the spike progresses and I am content.

This is an easy species for me, so it should be a doddle for everyone else. No idea why it's so hard to find.

Below- sassy old Aloe arborescens doing its lurid thing at the end of the driveway. They're particularly bright and uniform this year, perhaps due to the extra warmth and dearth of frost.

The Bellbirds love them.

Below left: I have two supposed forms of Aloe cameronii, the waxy shiny sort of plasticky one that colours up deep red when stressed and the more matte jade green one. They're both flowering at the same time here and this emerging inflorescence belongs to the latter form; the former is thinner and more elongate. Some people like to split the species but I'm of the opinion that they're just extreme ends of the same plasm yo. Below right: Aloe conifera, getting there slowly as is its wont.

Above: Aloe Mawii, coming on strongly now and colouring up. Much excite.

Maybe you're hardened to the sight of good old Aloe x 'Gold Tooth' but it is a fucking spectacular plant despite its vulgar ease of cultivation. It glows hypnotically in strong afternoon sunlight, its peacock green coruscating against the bright gold of its toothy margins. And what's not to love about that fat cobby bud? All killer, no filler.

Canary Island Foxglove Isoplexis canariensis.

Had a couple of poodle-bouncing setbacks so it's a bit straggly but the branches are budding up now. Flowers sporadically all year round for us here in southern NZ and is very attractive to birds and bees.

I had it in a pot in case we got a hard winter and it's done so well that I'll plant it out in spring. Nice species. Try it if you get the chance.

This week will be more photacular than tentextual so you'll just have to reconstruct my spitting and raving from memory.

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Monday slash Tuesday slash Aloe mawii, Aloe rupicola & Aloe conifera coming into flower

8/6/2016

You may not be excited,
but I am.

Whilst watering this Aloe mawii, one of the pride and joys of my collection, I discovered that not only is this incredibly handsome species going to flower for the first time, it is also offsetting, sprouting a second head in the leaves just below this bud.

This is a species of tree aloe from Malawi, Mozambique and southern Tanzania, trunking to around 2m when mature; they don't all divaricate and this one will hopefully end up a shapely and extra-floriferous plant.

The serpentine, asparagussy flower stalk is emerging at an almost alarming rate.

Also popping its flower cherry this year is my Aloe rupicola, another tree aloe species relatively uncommon in cultivation.

I think this plant is around 7 years old now and about a metre high. The species hails from really shitty rocky hills and scarps in a single region of Angola at an altitude of around 1800m. I keep it mostly dry over winter but our temps here in New Zealand have never bothered it.

I'll post detailed pics of the inflorescence since there's not many images of this plant online.

And finally we have one of my pair of Aloe conifera, a Madagascan species with scented yellow flowers; another first-timer. The other plant hasn't budded up visibly yet but fingers crossed.

Not sure what's coming at you this week since a stretch of unwintery weather has given us a window to frenziedly undertake all the outdoor shit we neglected over autumn. Stay tuned.

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Photos du Jour: Summer visuals, Port Chalmers, New Zealand

31/3/2016

Miscellaneous domestic observations.

above left Buttermilk echinopsis hybrid- first flower oh yeeeah.

freaky trade bead / elderly White Fronted Tern.
Battered by a final breeding season then a bad storm; passed away peacefully in a comfortable box overnight.

Proteaceae porn: pink King Protea and various allies in my mother's garden

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Pachypodium baronii ssp. windsorii aka Pachypodium windsorii

17/3/2016

This superb bit of Pachypodium baronii ssp. windsorii came to me some years ago from an enthusiast in Nelson who was selling a gorgeous array of seed-grown plants. I've had a couple of other Pachypodium species but have moved them on after it became apparent our conditions were unsuitable and now enjoy just this guy and the diminutive P, brevicaule. Which is supposed to be fussy and rot-prone, although no one seems to have told my plant.

P. b. windsorii is increasingly designated just 'windsorii' and distinguishes itself from the original species by its shorter stature and isolation on a couple of Madagascan massifs (including the titular Windsor Castle). It does seem to be more cold-tolerant than the classic variety, which occupies lower forests in situ.

Incidentally, I have a number of species from the Madagascan uplands and find them probably the most adaptable to our quite challenging conditions along with those from southern African hills, so if you're starting a serious succulent collection and feel you're at the edge of temperature viability for unheated cultivation, I'd point you in these two directions for your foundational plants.

> The same plant budding up at the end of spring.

P. windsorii rejoices in a fat-bootied form dressed in large stegosaurus-type spines that graduate from the base toward the growing tip, at which point it divides into plump, waxy branches, each one crowned with frangipani-like leaves in deep leathery green with a yearly burst of hot red blooms. They look as though they should emit some intoxicating perfume and I'd say this plant's only aesthetic deficit is that they do not. Oh well.

Apparently not every plant develops the flask-like shape so I consider myself lucky that mine exhibits some junk in the trunk. Some fanciers dock the growing tips and even graft onto root stocks chosen from larger species to create a busier architecture; I personally find all this frankenstein shit distasteful and prefer the natural form. The original species baronii can top out three metres in its native situation but windsorii keeps to around half this height; the plant you see here is around 40cm tall. I don't expect it will max out any growth records due to our cooler conditions.

I love the way the spines seem to originate and divide laterally, as though it is mirroring itself. Weird.

Sadly, large Pachypodium specimens can command hefty prices and this has given rise to habitat poaching on an island already suffering apocalyptic degradation and species loss. With this in mind I would sincerely encourage you to resist the temptation posed by showy adult plants obviously jacked from a cliff face and offered on Ebay. Pick yourself up a smaller seed-grown specimen from a reliable purveyor instead and treat yourself to the experience of nurturing these strange beauties from infancy.

Which is easy enough to do, at least in the case of P. windsorii. It's said that they like a larger root run than you'd usually allow for a plant this size, and I support this contention after constraining mine in a too-small pot for a couple of years and seeing little growth and bugger-all flowering. Restricted subsistence also seemed to make my plant more susceptible to mealy bug drama at the growing tips as well, resulting in leaf retardation. I run a strict no-spray gladiatorial policy with insect pests and either bin or move on plants that cannot prosper without toxic intervention, so it was a relief to see this guy outgrow the initial infestation this year and go on to flower non-stop for about five months after a generous repotting. Check the underside of your leaf bases on a regular basis; I squash and wipe away any mealy bullshit with a narrow hard-bristled paintbrush (the type kids use at primary school), which avoids damage to plants and keeps hands clear of spines. I find outdoor living can clear a susceptible plant of mealy bugs- just be careful not to fry a formerly sheltered specimen with too much UV and introduce it gradually to full exposure.

During the active, leafed-out summer period I've taken to giving it a generous watering every third day in lieu of rainfall and this plant seems to be happy with that amount, judging from the flowering continuity and leaf health.

As with most of my succulent collection, I use a half and half proprietary cactus soil/coarse pumice mix and (especially in the case of bulbous or globose species) take the precaution of topping off the last couple of centimetres around the plant's base with pure pumice in an attempt to fend off rot, which seems to work a treat since I've never rotted out a pachy.

Online sources suggest this species prefers acidic substrates. It's my experience that most of the succulent species available to the average non-fanatical collector are pretty adaptable in this respect, and if my windsorii is suffering in alkaline silence, there are no physiological symptoms. I don't practise additional feeding aside from the slow-release granules that are a feature of most quality potting mixes. The plant spends its dormant, leafless winters indoors on a windowsill (the colder months are wet here) in low light and temps that can get down to around 3ºC on a cold night to about 20ºC during the day when we have the fire on. Some peeps say to water occasionally during the leafless state in order to fend off root loss, but I never really have so... er... maybe I should?

Pachypodiums aren't really beginner's plants, strictly speaking, but if you've gathered a few clues about general succulent culture you should be able to manage the easier species. I'd rank P. windsorii amongst them.

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Cactus flowers- Aloe, Sulcorebutia, Rebutia, Parodia, Mammillaria, Echinocereus etc.

17/12/2015

We document the usual xmas dwarf cacti explosion and a few choice aloe flowers for your delectation.

Aloe capitata: bud and bloom. First time it's flowered for me; ecstatic.

Above left & below right: Aloe cameronii: this is the greener, more upright, more vigorous and less plastic-looking form of the two I own. The bellbirds came in an devastated the earlier blooms on this plant while feeding chicks.

Left: Aloe schomerii - rare in cultivation, first flower on this plant. Below Lobivia/Echinopsis ancistrophora ssp arachnacantha

Below left: Sulcorebutia Krainziana orange form Lobvia ancistrophora buds

Above left: Sulcorebutia candidae Above right: Echinocereus sp. Or could be a Rebutia hybrid.

Above: the beauteous Parodia rutilans
Below: Mammilaria carmenae

Sulcorebutia canigueralii (I think)

Below: Rebutia pygmaea (or heliosa): many subtle charms. Euphorbia horrida hybrid

Below Sulcorebutia pasopayana

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Photos du Jour: Aloe Flowers, midwinter.

25/7/2015

We've been so busy digging new rose beds that we almost forgot to check out the Aloe House.

Midwinter means my Aloe collection's thoughts turn to conjugation. More and more species are flowering regularly as my fleshy little friends begin to mature and that is very gratifying to any doting succulent parent.
I've written up some of these species already (okay, one) so hit the links to see more of the plant.
All photos are the work of the Lovely R.
(Please don't post these elsewhere without at least crediting and linking back to the site, thanks.)

Aloe deltoideodonta var brevifolia

Aloe suprafoliata

Aloe deltoideodonta var brevifolia

Aloe arborescens

Aloe hoffmanii (rare species, very exciting)

Aloe x 'Gold Tooth'

Aloe cameronii

Aloe x 'Orange Delight'

Aloe arborescens

The surpassingly beautiful Aloe albiflora, a native of the Madagascan highlands. Well, it was, until exterminated in the wild by mining and habitat degradation. Luckily it thrives in cultivation and mine flowers almost nonstop.

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Aloe humilis & a humilis x mitriformis (perfoliata) hybrid, in flower.

19/2/2015

This year's inflorescence (Nov '14) is emerging in the pic overhead, along with that of the humilis x mitriformis hybrid directly behind it sporting bronzy winter-dry stress colours.

I can't for the life of me remember where I acquired this little species, but I'm glad I did. I have a lot of success with dwarf and Madagascan aloes; that is er, largely accidental and it's often only after a few years of haphazard ignoramus cultivation that I discover this or that plant is supposed to be exceedingly difficult.

< Aloe humilis, the teal-green number in the foreground here is neither difficult nor Madagascan, hailing instead from the Eastern Cape region of South Africa, according to Aloes: The Definitive Guide (Kew), where it frolics amongst a landscape of low, dry scrubby bush.

Humilis is apparently quite a variable species both size-wise and in growth habit, some remaining solitary, others forming dense, sprawling colonies that flower in concert and must be quite stunning when viewed in situ.

My plant is a bright oceanic green with a powdery bloom that makes it look blueish. It's mature at 10cm high and wide, flowering reliably for a couple of years and now beginning to pup at the base, so this is probably max individual size for this form.

Above and right: The exceptionally beautiful flowers. They hold in this tight vertical formation until the individual florets begin to turn down and open in graceful sequence, dripping copious amounts of nectar. I always turn the racemes away from neighbouring plants so the honeydew doesn't leaves sticky puddles on their leaves.

Left: Flower detail.

These images may appear almost over-saturated, but I actually turned down the exposure in an attempt to tame the rabid lime and day glow orange blooms that are a hallmark of the species. They take a good four or so months to open from start to finish, but it's well worth the wait.

Below: My humilis x mitriformis hybrid.

This plant came from my favourite hobbyist supplier and it's a spiny copper and olive little monster. It was labeled 'perfoliata hybrid' which, as every plant dweeb knows, is a mysterious and exciting designation. Aloe perfoliata is a synonym for mitriformis which is probably the more accepted name.

I suspected a humilis parent and though you can never be 100% sure, the similar spines, habit, timing and flower spike is proof enough for me. You can see the spike emerging in the shot below; it was about a week or so behind the humilis proper but soon caught up. Their relative sizes are demonstrated in the shot below right.

Neither plant gives me any trouble at all. They sit outside all year round, kept dry but unheated in winter (down to around -2ºC min) in large-grade pumice and proprietary cactus mix. They're watered about once every two weeks in summer and not at all in winter.

I'm looking forward to prodigious colonies of both.

This plant enjoys the typical lizard-green, slightly
suede-y skin of the Aloe mitriformis parent, with form and flower characteristics being split pretty evenly between its two progenitors (you can see the mitriformis influence in the spacing of the inflorescence to the left here) It too has begun to pup from the bottom so I presume this is its ultimate individual size.

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Photos du Jour: Cactus Flowers.

14/1/2015

The Lovely R outdid himself with these gorgeous images of our cacti going off from early summer.

Above left and top right: Rebutia & Sulcorebutia. Above right bottom: Mammillaria
Below: Notocactus

Above: More Sulco/Rebutias. Below: Neochilenia/Eriosyce

Above & Below left: Rebutia. Below right: Echinocereus

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Aloe speciosa, in flower.

2/12/2014

Aloe speciosa (literally, the beautiful Aloe) was the species that sparked my personal love for tree aloes. I'm not entirely sure why they're my favourite group but it's probably the drama of their scale and often spectacular flowers. They are a powerfully exotic presence in any garden and it can be a surprise to learn that they can be amongst the easiest to grow of all this varied and sometimes difficult group of plants. At least that is my experience, and I live at the edge of outdoor climatic viability.

Speciosa hails from rocky slopes on the West and Eastern Cape regions of South Africa, where it occurs at moderate altitude of up to 800m, according to Aloes The Definitive Guide (Kew). The climate in this region is variable but generally drier and a little warmer than here on the coast of Otago in NZ, though we share a Mediterranean pattern.

I've grown this species outside and unprotected for about eight years now, with this specimen > being the largest of a trio in my front rockery at around 1.4m tall, at which height it has flowered for the first time. It receives winter rain, hail, snow and the occasional frost, although the ground never freezes here.

BELOW The leaves are tightly spaced along the stem and bear this diagnostic internode pin striping.

They dry down to form a straggly skirting that possibly protects the trunk from weather extremes, although it also provides the snails and slugs that like to munch the surface of the leaves with a convenient diurnal hideout.

< This species is also known at the Tilt (or Tilt-head) Aloe because its heavy blue rosette grows at a rather emphatic 45º angle to the stem and seems to insist on pointing due north, no matter where it is planted. That is certainly true in our location; I wonder if the orientation is reversed in the northern hemisphere.

The basic colour of the gracefully-curving, soft-spines leaves is bright medium green but this is converted to a particularly attractive turquoise blue by a waxy glaucous coating that seems to protect speciosa from much of the fungal spotting that can afflict aloes in humid climates. Both this and its aforementioned tilt also protects it from being damaged by the worst of the hail and snow that comes zinging out of the south in southern latitudes.

If molluscs are a problem in your area, you might want to either thin the skirt enough to allow birds to predate anything lurking inside it, or remove the dead leaves altogether.

Aloe speciosa seems a tough and pretty forgiving plant despite its soft leaves and luxurious demeanour. We had a bad freeze (down to around -5º) here in 07 which resulted in superficial leaf damage but recovery was rapid and complete. I planted my smallest in a too-dark hole in unsuitable claggy soil which resulted in root loss and toppling during a particularly wet winter; that specimen barely skipped a beat, developed strong new feeder roots and I've since replanted it elsewhere.

It is perfectly happy in a large container though if you can get away with it climatically, I do recommend planting all tree aloes out in raised beds for maximum growth and vigour. Speciosa is supposed to attain 6m in southern Africa. In the short time they've been cultivated in NZ quite a few have got up to around 3 m, so we may well see some monster examples in the next decade. It confers its beauty, flower size and tenacity when hybridised with fussier species (forming spectacular crosses with marlothii etc) and I grow a number of speciosa-x-? that have yet to blossom.

We recorded the emergence of the first flower in some detail, lol. As you can see, it ripens to a candy pink and then turns a lovely creamy ivory from the base as the individual florets open up and reveal their saffron pollen. This is the first time I've noticed pink stippling on the lower flowers but it's hardly something to complain about. If you're keen to try a tree aloe, start with speciosa. They're usually quite readily available, possibly the hardiest variety in a winter-rain area and certainly beautiful enough to warrant the space in your garden.

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Aloe Hemmingii aka Somaliensis

7/7/2014

When documenting my aloes, I do try and catch them when they're doing something interesting. My little colony of Aloe hemmingii has been waving at me for a while now with this attention-seeking inflorescence and general lizardy vigour.

Hemmingii is another of my personal favourites though it's regarded as common and even pedestrian by many aficionados. Mainly because it's pretty, easy and readily available, which are the dumbest of all reasons to dismiss so lovely a species. If it had just been discovered on some recently-demolished cliff face in Impumapopolumaland, you can bet hardcore horticulturalists would be losing their shit over it.

This little guy actually hails from relatively high altitude (1200 m) in Somalia, namely the Golis range in the north-west of that country and in this native situation enjoys scrubby companions and truly horrible-looking rocky and largely imaginary soil. If you're thinking it looks eerily similar to what you were told was your Aloe somaliensis, you're not going mad. The two plants have been lumped in together under the latter name by several authorities and it looks like somaliensis is the one favoured by the trade. Sounds more exotic, doesn't it?

These two plants are just part of an even wider confusion involving spotty species like parvidens, harlana, mcloughinii, sinkatana, jucunda and ruffingiana et al. But whatever. They're all worthy, and given that some are on the brink of losing their original habitats, we're lucky to have any of them.

This species is a deep glossy grass green thickly spotted with jagged celadon splotches and striations on both sides of the stiff leaves but especially the reverse, edged with sharp ochre spines. It flowers reliably for me on an indoor windowsill, usually in winter but also opportunistically; the raceme seen here is about 65cm tall, twice as high as the maximum given in Aloes The Definitive Guide but I'll allow it, lol, since the plant itself is a dead ringer for the hemmingii pictured in that volume.

A place indoors is really overkill for this reliably hardy species (in our zone 9 situation) which will tolerate both scorching sun and half shade, staying greenest when regularly watered, meaning twice a month in summer and just a few times over winter. I suspect the tough waxy cuticle helps it retain moisture and stay in good order; though this specimen has been woefully under-potted for most of it's life, it's never developed any of the frustrating leaf pathologies that can mar so many other aloes.

After ten years it's pupped slowly into three divisions, separated and replanted to allow them more scope to develop. The wee guy to the right is the latest scion; I snapped it off from the basal section of the largest plant and gave it a couple of weeks to dry after removal, just leaving it to sit on the topping pumice. This brown bump is the first of its own roots and many other species will do the same if you don't excise or completely crush the narrow zone from which this tissue originates.

This colony featured in my Repotting your Aloes piece if you're keen to see how not to treat your vegetable children. If you're new to succulent cultivation and want a tough nut to practice on, look no further than Aloe hemmingii. It's got all the bells and whistles; beautiful, relatively easily obtainable and cheerfully indestructible.

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Repotting your Aloes.

23/4/2014

Aloe neglect. If these plants were children, they'd be wards of the State by now and deservedly so.

Let's view a few crime scene images.
The victims in question here are a young Aloe broomii, to the left, which has been knocked over in a too-small pot at some stage and stuffed back in halfway. This has caused it to send out a spiral of adventurous moisture-seeking roots which is a typical response to hardship by this tough species.
Please don't judge me.

Below centre is a bit of a different story- a young Aloe harlana which has just outgrown its pot, a great sign. I really like this (in NZ) difficult-to-source species and am looking forward to seeing it develop into a nice plant. There's a lot of healthy, normal root development going on here and that's an extremely gratifying development. To the far left is the same little harlana from underneath, showing the stone I'd used to constrict the big drainage hole in this pot completely engulfed by new roots. Ka pai!

Harlana :)

Somaliensis : /

To the far right above.... erm... yesss. A less innocent tableau; we have a much abus'ed and forlorn old Aloe somaliensis colony, veteran of some shocking mistreatment. It had been knocked over/shoved back in three times over summer with very few figs given, losing more soil with each incident and its poor roots getting more and more parched and broken. I've taken this guy for granted for years and it's time to do the right thing by it.

We'll do the harlana first. It's just a straightforward rehousing job and because this plant is not particularly fussy or showing signs of stress I'm putting it into a much larger pot, which it will fill out by this time next year.

> Soil: I use a proprietary cacti and succulent mix plus this large grade of pumice, usually a half and half mixture unless it's a small or delicate plant in a little pot and then I cut back the pumice.

I did the same thing for the broomii since it was chugging along nicely despite the rough treatment. It's a hardy plant and appreciates a good root run. If you're dealing with a damaged or more water-sensitive species, be conservative and choose a smaller pot than this so that you're not sitting any tender roots in a mass of damp, vacant soil too long. Certain death, my friends.

You can use a smaller grade. I find it compacts a wee bit, and I prefer this size as a top dressing since it tends to stay put. I like to shake some old soil from around the roots of the plant in question into this new mix; it's probably just a superstition but since it preserves some of the microflora/PH from the previous environment it might just be beneficial. Who knows? Don't do this if your plant is struggling or displaying rot; you want a fresh start in that case. I am an incorrigible over-waterer so I always use ceramic pots and an open soil mix to give my collection a chance to survive my attentions. If your vegetable children are faced with a very arid, hot and/or neglectaroony type situation you might want to ease up on the drainage amendments. But to my eye, below right is some hot looking dirt, and if I were a xeric plant in a bar, I would definitely sway drunkenly toward it.

< I like to fill the pot til just below the root/leaf union, and then to top up around the base of the plant with pure pumice. It's a fraught area for many species, especially those low to the ground and in the habit of hanging on to the dead leaves beneath their rosettes. In a damp winter or overwatering situation it can become funky town in no time, harbouring a nice dose of basal rot.

Below- Let's move onto the poor somaliensis. I'm choosing a luxury plastic pot for this guy, even though I hate them with a white hot passion. This species is a survivor and I don't tend to overwater this specimen for some reason. It's pupping away too; multiple plants and busy roots mean there's less chance of soggy empty soil.

< Same procedure as before. A shallow course on the bottom of the pot and careful filling all around the roots, then a good tap or shake of the pot to make sure the soil's worked all the way down and there's no gaps. > I broke off one of the small pups from the base. I'll let its stump dry for a week or two, then just push it into the upper layer of pumice where it will put out roots in a few weeks, forming a new plant.

Below left: Brush all the soil and pumice out of those leaves or you're setting your plant up for some unsightly fungal spots. I keep two sizes of paint brush exclusively for dusting junk from my succulents; it's generally not a good idea to draft one in from your DIY stash as any solvent residues can burn your plants. And finally, below right: the finished product. Some grateful potted-on aloes beside their former homes. Only another two dozen or so to go.

* Click for more vegetal madness *

Aloe Mitriformis

20/3/2014

According to most of the bibliographic resources and the eyes in any plant-fancier's head, Aloe mitriformis is a beast with many faces. In its native range, namely from the Bokkeveld Plateau (South Africa) in the Western Cape to Caledon on the east, it appears in at least three agreed-upon forms and apparently a good number of intermediate guises. This might be a response to the exacting nature of the many environments it seems to have wandered into, from mild coastal belt to harsh, fynbos-style altitude. BELOW: Aloe mitriformis, the 'proper' species type.

The plant pictured directly above is my most cherished example of this popular and exuberant species and the flowers featured here all belong to this plant. I would personally identify as the distans subspecies mentioned in Aloes the Definitive Guide because of its flattened UFo-style inflorescence and narrower form, but everyone seems to have a different opinion. Here in New Zealand there are probably as many clones and variations as there are aloe fanciers. I forget where this flowering form came from, but the more classic mitriformis pictured above right is from Coromandel Cacti in Auckland. It's a younger plant and has yet to bloom but you can see the difference- a wider, more typically aloe-shaped form that will slowly multiply from a hidden base into a snaky wealth of flowering heads, each one up to two metres long.

^ This was the flower at an earlier stage, probably about a month ago. Below- side shoots emerging from the base of the same plant.

They can be broken off by the impatient gardener and potted onto form more plants. I'm going to let this guy go crazy and form the Medusa-type mass that make big old specimens such a sight to behold.

One of the older aloes in cultivation, mitriformis is predictably undemanding. At least that's been my experience. It would probably be just fine planted out in a well-drained spot since our conditions are almost identical to its original habitat (maritime climate, humidity, sea fogs, not stupidly hot etc). But the flowering plant is such a pretty example that I'm going to cosset it in a pot for a while. Despite its reputation for favouring certain substrates (sandstone for mitriformis, granite for distans) almost exclusively when in situ, this species has done perfectly well in my care with little-to-no soil PH/composition consideration, so I doubt it's worth tearing your hair out trying to source special mixes. Like virtually all my succulents, they spend winter in an unheated open shelter and it doesn't seem to have fazed them in the least.

This is an extremely beautiful and rewarding aloe and an easy plant for the beginner.

* More wonderful flora here *

Photo du Jour: Rebutia in flower.

6/3/2014

Though it seems almost sacrilegious to remove the hypnotic scarlet from the flowers, I think this is a particularly pleasing B&W by the lovely R. I used to think of monochrome as earplugs for the eyes- visual impoverishment- and I still think it's abused by the unscrupulous... but I'm coming round.
Slowly.

Aloe Meyeri

21/1/2014

Cultivation-wise, Aloe meyeri has yet to pull any dick moves; I received it as a very small plant about three years back and it has expanded slowly and steadily, fattening up and coming into its lovely starry adult shape, gaining prominent pearly teeth along the leaf margins and keeping a few of the wee pale maculations that are a hallmark of many juvenile aloes. It spends all year outdoors, enjoying shelter from winter precipitation but no heating to speak of, sailing through temps as low as -2º C with snow on the ground nearby without turning a hair or developing visible damage. I respect this guy's precipitous origins by using a very open soil mix and ensuring perfect ventilation. A very nice plant.

Aloe Meyeri. In a word, cute. This is a small cliff-dwelling species from the Rosyntjieberg mountains in the Northern Cape district of South Africa, sometimes clumping and pendant, sometimes remaining upright. I agree with Aloes the Definitive Guide that this species is obviously related to A. mitriformis and most peeps with knowledge of that much more familiar plant will probably concur.

This is my specimen. It's flowered for the first time while still solitary and at about 25cm wide from tip to tip, the bud sneaking out of an upper internode as per the pic below.

^ I apologize for the aphids that have battened on this nice little inflorescence. It is strongly bi-coloured, like a gasteria's flowers.

* MORE SUCCULENTS & ALOES HERE *

Neochilenia jussieui / Eriosyce heinrichiana simularis / Pyrrhocactus in flower.

2/1/2014

Happy 2014! It's always auspicious to start a new calendar year with something living and blooming so I hope this takes the edge off your hangover. Will post some more serialization soon, just finishing off painting the bedroom. Black. Ah ha ha ha ha!

This guy's about 6 years old and I received it as a seedling. I'm proud of my little Kermit-green pillar of velvety dinosaur humps; though it spikes me all the bloody time, it never gives me a moment's anxiety vis-a-vis its wellbeing, flowering two-three times a year in fits and starts, so I'd say it's pretty happy with the extreme neglect I lavish on it. No water over winter under an unheated verandah and water when I remember (about twice a month) over the quite lengthy summer growing season.

I'm not sure I'd call it a beginner's plant, despite the ease of cultivation. Neochilenia are Atacama natives, adapted to very notional soil and little more than sea-mist for all their irrigation requirements. Our mild maritime temps and seaside humidity seem to suit them to a T, as long as they are kept dry over winter; lack of atmospheric moisture might be a problem if you're somewhere mid-continental.

If you leave them alone, they are eager to please; overwater or pamper and they'll turn into a stump of soggy brown within a week. That's been my experience, anyway.

Here's my Neochilenia jussieui or Eriosyce heinrichiana simularis (or Pyrrhocactus something/1000 other names for the same damn plant) in full flower, early summer.

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