Third time's the charm

In 2009, we returned from a sabbatical semester in Germany to find that almost all of our houseplants had perished. I put out a plea for cuttings on our neighborhood email list, and a neighbor responded. Among her gifts was an epiphyllum leaf. 

Over the next several years, the single leaf grew into an enormous scraggly plant. During the winter, it perches like a vulture atop a wardrobe in our living room. In the summer, it hangs out outside on the porch.

Two summers ago, I finally learned it likes half shade/half sun. It rewarded me by producing a single flower. Unfortunately, I didn't notice the flower until the morning after it had bloomed. Epiphyllum--also known as night-blooming cereus--blooms at night, and the flowers wilt at dawn. I vowed to pay more attention the next summer.

This summer, it rewarded me again by producing a single flower, and dagnabbit if I didn't notice the flower until the morning after it had bloomed. I vowed to pay more attention next summer.

And then, a few weeks after the second annual miss, we had a hit. The plant put out a second bud. I checked it every few days, then daily, then twice daily, and then it bloomed. We now understand why people host bloom-watching parties.

August 31

September 6

September 8

September 9

September 11

September 11

E made a time-lapse video

E's video captures ~8:30pm - midnight in 9 seconds:

 

The morning after