So now in our tour of the greenhouses of the art museum, we come to the orchid room. Like the succulents, there does not seem to be much in the way of poetic maxims about the flowers. A brief reading through 100 Flowers and how they got their names revealed a rather lurid background which I’m not keen to repeat here.
Despite their rather coveted status in botany (or perhaps because of it) I’ve never been much of a fan of orchids. I’m a temperate woodland girl myself and adore all the flowering plants and ferns to be found in the forests. But I’m not so much a fan of the tropical plants. They seem foreign and all together too gaudy in comparison with the delicate, unassuming blooms of snowdrop or hellebore. However, I do find myself weakening recently when it comes to orchids. It may be that they’re readily available as house-plants and I’m desperate for flowers, so these will work. I’d like to think that I’m actually starting to like them though.
I love the delicate shades of purple and white on these varieties. I’m sure the pollinating insects do to. I learned in college that the showiness of the orchid bloom acts as a “landing strip” for the insects – guiding them with color and pattern to pollinate.
At any rate, and for whatever reason, I do find myself attracted to these blooms. Perhaps that means I’m part bee and I should check for emerging feathery antennae. I’m off to eat some honey.
Blessings to you,