Clivia
My parents loved and nurtured all kinds of plants, both indoor
and outdoor. It would be fair to say that they had green fingers. My father
loved fuchsias and grew many varieties, but my mother particularly enjoyed
house plants. She was also an amazing flower arranger, entirely self-taught.About thirty years ago, long after my father died, I gave my
mother a clivia, which flowered beautifully just once. No matter what she
tried, or where she situated it, it never flowered again for her, though all
her other plants thrived and rewarded her care with beauty. After she died, I inherited her clivia and brought it home to our
conservatory. To my surprise, it flourished and flowered. Eventually, it grew
too big and had to be repotted and still it grew.
Finally, I had to divide it and from one plant gained three,
all strong, strapping plants. They all produce large heads of blooms, but all
flower at slightly different times, so that our conservatory has a long
sequence of gorgeous, bright orange flowers. Soon, they will need to be divided
again. Every time I look at my lovely clivias I think of my mother. Perhaps,
after all, I inherited just one of her green fingers.
