My Garden Story

Orchid Experiences

​

When I was young, the Sunday papers had four pages of coloured comics. There was Prince Valiant, Ginger Meggs, The Phantom, The Potts and my favourite, Brenda Starr Reporter.

Brenda was a glamorous redhead who had Adventures, but most of her life was waiting for her boyfriend, Basil St. John who wore a black eyepatch and spent most of his life in the jungles of South America hunting for the elusive black orchid. That was the start of my fascination with orchids. I was about seven. It was also a glamorous era in Hollywood when stars were photographed in evening dress going to night clubs, the women wearing huge purple cattleya orchid corsages. I wanted one so badly, but all I got were frangipanis. When I grew up there were no flower shows as such, but in the 1970s a man used to bring his entire collection of orchids to the marble entrance hall of the Commercial Bank in Martin Place, where he displayed them for a month. He was there every day to answer questions and talk about his great love for the flowers. I used to go and chat to him and look at his orchids, my favourite being a yellow orchid which I now think was a cymbidium. 

 

Time passed, I stayed in Sydney and for many years lived in rented flats with no gardens. I was working and had little time to pursue orchids, and then in 2001 I moved here and rented a house with an acre. That was a real challenge, and I've written about it elsewhere. Almost by accident I stumbled upon the local orchid society. I was passing s shed in Mittagong and saw a notice "Annual orchid show." Of course, I stopped and went in, and there was a large room filled with beautiful flowers and friendly people who asked would I like to join? I signed up immediately and paid the $20 annual subscription, and for the next twenty years, attended the monthly meetings in a variety of halls and houses. When I joined the society numbered about 15, and was run by elderly retired men, with beards and hand knitted jumpers. They were a source of delight, of knowledge, and infinitely helpful and kind, giving advice, cuttings and one of them came to the house to see the best aspect for keeping them indoors. Early on I bought a cymbidium in a large pot from a local garden centre which no longer exists. It was magnificent, with thirteen spikes of pale green and white flowers. I put it outside, as instructed, and for some years it flowered steadily. Then it flowered less and I thought it must be pot bound, so I pulled it out and re-potted, dividing it into three. Two promptly died and the third lives on but has never flowered again. I needed more help and advice. It came at the monthly meetings. This was a properly constituted society, with a chairman, secretary and judges. Every meeting the members brought in their best pots of orchids which were benched and judged.  There was an agenda, minutes taken, general business, a raffle and afternoon tea. This was the highlight with everyone contributing sandwiches, scones, cakes and biscuits. There was conversation too. The meetings began promptly at 2 pm and ended around 3.30. We had to pay for the halls, not a lot but they weren't free. Quite often there was a speaker before the tea, usually a member, who would talk about feeding and fertilising, (weakly, weekly) and demonstrate repotting and insect damage and what to do. I loved it and gradually took on some knowledge and increased my collection with mainly indoor orchids, phalaenopsis mostly, which do particularly well here. People give me orchids', some quite exotic but I am bad about names and frequently lose labels so have to look them up when asked what is it?

Over time the society changed, some of the old men died, more people joined and noticeably some professional orchid growers with commercial outlets, slightly unfair on the home growers as they always won the benching with huge and multiple blooms, mostly purple and bronze and not to my taste. The society became more organised, taking orchids to local markets and organising visits to other shows. Following a bout of ill health a couple of years ago, most of the old and bold had gone, so I decided to retire. I was not sorry to leave; I'd had great enjoyment from the society and was now able to care for my indoor plants. I did try a cymbidium under an oak tree, and it produced a large spike only to be broken off by a bird, so I gave up.

 

I have a friend on the central coast who also grows orchids, mostly magnificent cymbidiums found of rubbish heaps or donated by friends, and we exchange photos in the flowering season. Sharing, as gardeners will know, is part of the joy, for unlike cooks who will, under pressure, give you a r4ecipe which doesn't work because an essential ingredient is missing. Gardners are more generous souls.

 

Next time, the difficulty with dahlias.