During the Victorian era, orchid collecting reached such a high pitch among some of the wealthy that the term ‘orchidelirium’ was born. Not unlike tulipmania, it was as much a past-time for the rich as it was for those genuinely interested in botany and plants. Such frenzies have always fascinated me, not for the fevered hunger it incited in people, but for the realization that many orchids, for which some of the wealthiest families would pay thousands of dollars, can now be found at your local supermarket for $19.99, if not less.
Such is the fanciful way human nature works. We are a silly and superfluous species in so many aspects, particularly when it comes to our fleeting obsessions. They burn with the passion of a thousand suns, and just as brightly they are as quickly burned out. That didn’t mitigate the wanting, and sometimes the only way to conquer a temptation is to yield to it. Or so Oscar Wilde would have us believe. Living to the moral compass of Mr. Wilde may be temporarily thrilling, but even Oscar himself may have some hard-won wisdom given the way his life worked out.
The point of this post is orchids, and the Victorian era, and for me that brings it all back to the atmosphere and surroundings of decadence and beauty. Lacking a proper greenhouse room, our living room and its bay window are the closest we get to such extravagance, and so it is here that I have assembled a little collection of plants to hopefully see us through the winter. A well-known harp piece introduces the scene at hand. Do give it a listen and see if it calms the frenetic November wind just outside the door.
This little beauty is named ‘Jumping Jack’ which is more silly than one would expect from the Victorians, and it makes sense since it’s a relatively new hybrid. I fell in love with its lush green foliage, and then that beautiful flower tinged with chocolate and kissed with violet cemented the deal. Some varieties are said to smell sweetly of hyacinth mixed with a bit of black pepper, which sounds absolutely divine. Woefully, I have yet to detect a scent emanating from this fellow. No matter. Something this exquisite come with charms that have no additional need for perfume.
I understand the work at hand. With the newly-acquired humidifier in the living room, and a Majesty palm joining the ranks, I see that I am attempting to craft our own little oasis from whatever mayhem the world will unleash before the year ends, and likely beyond. Winter knows no calendar devised by human hands; it recognizes only the sun and our proximity and twirl around it.
Seeking comfort and prettiness, I adorn the living room with a healthy level of moisture in the air, and a few pretty plants to keep things green until spring and summer arrive again. In a little while I shall force some paper white narcissus and maybe find an amaryllis or two to see if I can force a Christmas bloom. Flowers do make a holiday extra festive.
