My Voodoo Lily is Blooming!

One day toward the end of January I innocently opened my pantry door, and a coiled snake was staring me in the face. 

My startled gasp had barely escaped my lips and my heart had not recovered its normal rhythm, when I realized it was not a snake at all. It was my Amorphophallus konjac, AKA voodoo plant, snake lily, devil's tongue and corpse plant. All of these names are appropriate.

This is what happened: Back in the fall I had dug up the tubers of my two voodoo lilies, which live in pots out in the garden through spring and summer. After brushing the dirt off the tubers, I put them in a sack and placed them on a shelf in my pantry, with plans to replant them when new growth began in the spring. 

My excuse for owning these plants is that I did not know what I was doing when I bought them; and once I had them, it was too late. For the full story, read my old post Under the Spell of the Voodoo Plant. When I first acquired them in 2010, my voodoo plant tubers were tiny, the largest being only about the size of an almond. It takes about five years for these plants to grow to blooming size. The largest one was almost four inches across when I dug it last fall, and 2015 would be its fifth year; so I was expecting it to bloom this spring.

This is what the larger voodoo plant looked like after I rescued it from the pantry shelf. The tuber is almost four inches across. Note how wide the stalk is as it emerges.I thought the smaller one, which was about an inch smaller, could need another year.

Notice I said I thought it would bloom this spring. The reason the plant is called corpse plant is because the flower is said to smell exactly like rotting flesh. (Surely that was an exaggeration!) Because it would be out in the garden when it bloomed, I was not concerned.

The plant decided to surprise me. The smaller tuber sent up a slender stalk, which poked a hole through the plastic sack and then grew upward until it encountered the bottom of the shelf above it. It then turned sideways and reached the cabinet door, which I am sure it would have pushed open if I had not first opened it myself.

I stared in amazement at this thing. There was a swelling at the end of the coiled, spotted stalk, which could easily be interpreted as the head of a snake. I realized the plant was going to bloom.

In February. Inside my house. Oh, no.

Upon research, I discovered that Amorphophallus konjac sends up its bloom in late winter to early spring. So my plants were right on time. I untangled the tuber from the plastic sack. The larger tuber was also pushing up a stalk. It was shorter but much thicker than the other one. It was going to bloom, too.

This photo was taken February 1, about a week after I took the voodoo plants out of the pantry. The smaller tuber is still leaning dramatically to one side, but it has begun to straighten.

I transferred the tubers to a pot, and I watched anxiously as both plants grew rapidly. With space and light, the little one soon straightened itself. Its inflorescence unfurled by the second week of February.

February 7. The first bloom! Our cat Autumn checks out the smell.Powerful enough to bring tears to my eyes, the bloom had the stench of a very bad crime scene. Fortunately, we had a few warm days while it was blooming, so I was able to sit it outside during the day. We were amazed by how many tiny flies came to the plant, hunting for food but being cruelly tricked even as they did their part in pollination. At night I brought the plant inside and put it in the back part of the house where our cat Autumn stays. I made sure the door was firmly shut between that area and the main part of the house. I am not sure how Autumn felt about this arrangement. After one whiff, she kept away from the plant.

The stink persisted about a week, and then after a couple of weeks the bloom began to decline. Meanwhile, the larger plant was growing to about three feet tall with a stalk over an inch thick. Now, a month after the small one bloomed, the larger one has opened its cobra-like hood.Strange and beautiful! In the lower right image, one can see remnants of the first bloom, to the right of the stalk.

The weather, which has been freezing this week, warmed up today and will stay mild. Outside the voodoo plant goes! By the time it has finished blooming, it will be time to plant these weird plants in their summer pots. In a month or so they will send up unusual, umbrella-like leaves, which will add an exotic note to the garden.

My plants are young. In coming years the tubers could grow to a foot in diameter and send up stalks nearly six feet tall. Amorphophallus konjac is stunning in every way. What do you think? Would you forgive the stench?

Cat Walk

Our cat Autumn loves the garden as much as we do, though maybe for different reasons. She dreams she is a tiger, slinking through the jungle and stalking her prey. While she stays inside most of the time, we do let her out a few hours each day so she can be a cat.Being a cat.

We no longer put up bird feeders, not wanting to give her or our resident hawks easy targets, nor wanting to encourage our pesky chipmunks to hang around. (We have an over-abundant chipmunk population. In the past they built a condominium underneath one of our bird feeders and then sent out fliers advertising its amenities, including free meals. Now a vast underground chipmunk city stretches beneath our garden.) Both the hawks and Autumn hunt chipmunks, but since she has a home and doesn't depend on her prowess for food, Autumn is likely to catch chipmunks simply for play. I watched her do this one day. She repeatedly captured and released a chipmunk just so she could chase after him. I began to feel sorry for him; but apparently she wasn't actually biting him, and in the end he got away. 

Autumn often accompanies me on my garden strolls. I call these our cat walks. We make frequent stops to gaze into space for prolonged periods. I am mentally assessing the garden, while she has her eyes on some imperceptible movement amidst the plants.Clockwise from upper left:African daisy; An old Easter lily that blooms faithfully every year; Hydrangea 'Lady in Red', named for its red stems, not its blooms; Gardenia, whose wonderful fragrance fills the woodland garden each June.I can see the tension building in Autumn's body as she stares. Then she pounces, hoping to catch a chipmunk; but not all movement is made by chipmunks. The other day a snake did not appreciate her aggression and decided to fight back. Autumn made a hasty retreat and stuck close to me for the rest of our walk. I like snakes and leave them alone, because they like to dine on chipmunks, too. I hope that with all these predators, the chipmunks will abandon the area.

The cat and I pause at the top of the steps leading down into the woodland garden.Pink gumbo azaleas are blooming across from Autumn fern. (I named Autumn after the season, not the plant, because she came to us at that time of year and also because of the autumn colors in her fur.)

Down the steps is Carex 'Everillo'.I adore this plant! It keeps getting better and better and doesn't mind Autumn's occasional nibbles.

Next is Pilea glauca, or Red Stemmed Pilea.I love how the steel blue foliage contrasts with its red stems. This is a tropical plant that will come inside for the winter.

Now we come to the weirdest plant in my garden, Amorphophallus konjac, also called Voodoo plant, Devil's Tongue, and Corpse plant. All of these names are appropriate.The spotted stems feel like human skin. The great leaf opens up like an umbrella and looks a lot like a tomato plant. I have two of these growing in pots in different parts of my garden. They are four years old. It takes about five years till they bloom, so I am looking forward to that experience next year. The blooms are giant maroon things that smell like rotting flesh.

Well! Just below the Voodoo plant is much nicer Eucomis, or Pineapple lily.I recently discovered this plant and was thrilled to learn it is hardy in my area (zone 7b/8a). It is my favorite plant of the month. It is just beginning to open its blooms.

We continue our cat walk into the woodland garden, where dark shadows and light beams play across moss covered paths.This woodland side path leads around the main planting area in the woodland garden.

Bicycle shadow in the woodland gardenThe woodland garden is a quiet place, except for the shrieking hawks who built their nest in a pine tree earlier this year. The hawk babies are out of the nest now, but the fledglings are still hanging around, while their parents teach them how to catch chipmunks. All these hawks are talking to each other. It is a hard language to listen to. I tell Autumn they are fussing at her and she had better stay close. She does.

After we leave the woodland garden, Autumn and I make our way back toward the patio. I pause to examine the Confederate Jasmine growing on the new arch.Look on the left side of the arch, and you can see the recovering jasmine vine.The jasmine was severely damaged by winter freezes this year, and we cut it back nearly to the ground and took the opportunity to replace the old dilapidated arch. I miss the mass of jasmine that covered the old arch, but the vine is putting out lots of new growth. A new jasmine vine on the other side of the arch is also growing quickly, so I think by next year they will meet in the middle atop the arch.  

The cat walk is over, and Autumn and I head into the house. Autumn curls up for a nap. In her dreams she is a mighty tiger on the prowl, and the chipmunks don't stand a chance.

You may also enjoy these previous posts:

Under the Spell of the Voodoo Plant 

A Cat Tale

The Cat is Back

Confederate Jasmine For a Fragrant Layer in the Garden