The red arrow indicates the stem of the A. tabuliforme that died after blooming. The seedlings are in the pink circles. The other plant is a Graptosedum.
The short dirt on A. tabuliforme: propagation by leaves or seeds. Hold off the monocarpic plant's yellow blooms by keeping it in as much shade as possible without compromising the health and beauty of the plant. Winter active, summer dormant. In nature, cliff-dwelling.
When the A. tabuliforme bloomed and died, I shook all the seeds out of the dried flowers onto the soil of the dying plant's container, though I didn't expect any success--me and seeds? Unless we are talking vegetable seeds, it's hopeless. I did not bother covering the seeds, not even with a sprinkle of sand, and did not bother keeping them moist. The Graptosedum 'Vera Higgins' sharing the pot got watered now and again.
Yet just after the past couple of rainy days:
After the plant died, (before would have been better!) I read a reliable source that said A. tabuliforme will readily grow new plantlets from leaves, so should I ever get another copy of this species, I will try that. I also read something at the DavesGarden website that made me smile:
"Self-sows freely; deadhead if you do not want volunteer seedlings next season."
Imagine someone not wanting more A. tabuliformes after their old one died!
If I get viable seedlings that survive to any size, I will be astonished and pleased beyond belief.
After all the work whacking and wrestling with a monster Brugmansia yesterday, I needed to look at something tiny. Sprouted A. tabuliforme seeds was the perfect thing.
Also tiny, the teeth on Aloe suprafoliata. They look nastier than they are, though they do look more needle-like than the typical Aloe teeth. This Aloe has not bloomed yet, which is why its foliage is still distichous.
Also tiny, the first flower on a quite colorful Euphorbia obesa. The cool weather seems to have brought out the color. It looks rather like Catholic school-uniform plaid fabric, or like a kaleidoscope pattern, doesn't it? In summer's heat, the variegation is quite faded out. The tiny yellow flower(s?) appear near the center of the plant:
Tiny white bumps decorate this Haworthia. I ignore this plant terribly. It's a beautiful little thing. I haven't looked at it since I potted it up a couple of years ago. It's grown and pupped. It deserves more admiration than I give it. I just read today, "If you don't check your plants every day, you have too many plants." Uh oh. I mostly agree with that, which means I have too many plants.
Also yellow-flowered, the yellow version of Clivia miniata sent up a bloom stem. It's months late this year.
While the orange Clivias are opening up:
At least the Clivias take care of themselves, essentially. Too many plants, indeed.
The short dirt on A. tabuliforme: propagation by leaves or seeds. Hold off the monocarpic plant's yellow blooms by keeping it in as much shade as possible without compromising the health and beauty of the plant. Winter active, summer dormant. In nature, cliff-dwelling.
When the A. tabuliforme bloomed and died, I shook all the seeds out of the dried flowers onto the soil of the dying plant's container, though I didn't expect any success--me and seeds? Unless we are talking vegetable seeds, it's hopeless. I did not bother covering the seeds, not even with a sprinkle of sand, and did not bother keeping them moist. The Graptosedum 'Vera Higgins' sharing the pot got watered now and again.
Yet just after the past couple of rainy days:
After the plant died, (before would have been better!) I read a reliable source that said A. tabuliforme will readily grow new plantlets from leaves, so should I ever get another copy of this species, I will try that. I also read something at the DavesGarden website that made me smile:
"Self-sows freely; deadhead if you do not want volunteer seedlings next season."
Imagine someone not wanting more A. tabuliformes after their old one died!
If I get viable seedlings that survive to any size, I will be astonished and pleased beyond belief.
After all the work whacking and wrestling with a monster Brugmansia yesterday, I needed to look at something tiny. Sprouted A. tabuliforme seeds was the perfect thing.
Also tiny, the teeth on Aloe suprafoliata. They look nastier than they are, though they do look more needle-like than the typical Aloe teeth. This Aloe has not bloomed yet, which is why its foliage is still distichous.
Also tiny, the first flower on a quite colorful Euphorbia obesa. The cool weather seems to have brought out the color. It looks rather like Catholic school-uniform plaid fabric, or like a kaleidoscope pattern, doesn't it? In summer's heat, the variegation is quite faded out. The tiny yellow flower(s?) appear near the center of the plant:
Tiny white bumps decorate this Haworthia. I ignore this plant terribly. It's a beautiful little thing. I haven't looked at it since I potted it up a couple of years ago. It's grown and pupped. It deserves more admiration than I give it. I just read today, "If you don't check your plants every day, you have too many plants." Uh oh. I mostly agree with that, which means I have too many plants.
Also yellow-flowered, the yellow version of Clivia miniata sent up a bloom stem. It's months late this year.
While the orange Clivias are opening up:
At least the Clivias take care of themselves, essentially. Too many plants, indeed.
Well done on the seedlings. Sounds like you have the same problem as me keeping them alive. BUt sometimes, the ones that are left to fend for themselves do ok, as you don't try to look after them and kill them in doing so.
ReplyDeleteAnd look after that aloe suprafoliata they are lovely plants, for me especially once they start to spiral after they have flowered for first time.
Lol Hoov, my Catholic School uni's were navy blue wool..none of that garish plaid stuff for St Marys.I still mourn the loss of my beloved E. obesa , foolishly left outdoors over my first Norcal winter back in 1986.
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