Delicate Addiction

by Anne Nies

! Youʼve seen them in movies, upscale hotels, advertising, and your local grocery,

maybe even in your local hardware store. Regardless of where they probably looked

the same each time: two broad deep green leaves with a long gracefully curving stem of

the same color growing up from between them. At the other end of the stem a group of

three to ten large white flowers, ranging from three to six inches across, they face the

viewer. The center is a splash of color, probably pink, and the petals curl around the

short broad stamen like a cave, but also like an animal. Then there are five large white

petals framing the center, two that face down and to the sides, one that sticks straight

up, and two, the largest, that point straight out the sides; so that there is the overall

impression of looking at a bright pink cave mounted on a snowy white pentagon. On

the other hand you may have noticed them and leaned in to look more closely. You may

have noted how the large with petals, curve very slightly in, or how the cave is not a

consistent color, but deep inside it is actually yellow with pink flecks, and that the pink

bleeds out from the center into the white like the veins of a pale child. Either way, their

beauty was probably appreciated for a fleeting moment.

! In a desire to understand the popularity of orchids I began to search out more

information on them. Very swiftly it became clear that there are those for who a moment

is not enough. Somehow the beauty must be captured and maintained, but from

reading books and plant tags, it appeared that there was little agreement on how. In the

search for answers I went to Orchids by Hausermann, “the largest and oldest grower in

the Midwest,” which is not only stated on their web page in large proud bright blue

letters but is also recognized by every orchid enthusiast Iʼve spoken to. Although the

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space inside their greenhouses feels intimate and small, they actually sprawl over three

acres. To get there you turn off a six-lane highway lined with strip malls and congested

by stop lights. Then drive down a gravel lane, marked by a giant pink billboard, past a

couple of houses. The main entrance to the green houses is up a flight of concrete

steps on the side of what appears to be an old barn. Once inside the door there is a

dim room selling growing supplies and displaying some lighting stands. Pass through to

the next room and there is an office and a desk with an old cash register to your right, to

your left more stairs, this time going down to narrow dim isles where the paphadilliums

grow, and further down on the left is a room with a closed door, full of glass bottles, lying

on their sides on wooden A-frame shelves, with some green substance in the bottom.

Then a bit further is the main display area, full of orchids in bloom, and arranged in

attractive groups. To the right, further ahead, and behind the display area on the left

there are more rooms, full of bright green plants on tables and hanging from the ceiling.

Each room is composed of: narrow isles, glass walls, concrete and brick paths through

beds of gravel, exposed pipes, light filters through the dirty glass roof, and moss grows

in bright green patches. The air is humid, but temperatures vary from room to room,

and doors between them are not always easily opened and closed.

! The first thing I learned is that the orchids populating our culture is that they are

phalaenopsis, and that their flowers come in a huge variety of colors and patterns. Also,

that they are just one out of hundreds of genera of orchid. I knew that lady slippers were

orchids, but I had thought that those were the only two varieties. There was a profusion

of colors and shapes and fragrances that I was unprepared for. There were orchids in

pots with small blood red flowers cascading from large bulbous bright green leaves,

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there were orchids on the wall, mounted on pieces of bark, with fleshy green leaves and

no flowers. There were bright pink, yellow, orange, and white flowers whose petals

ruffled profusely and whose leaves fought for the attention. Room after room, there

were orchids on tables and hanging from the ceiling, orchids of every color and even the

plant type varied. Moss grew everywhere, it was humid, warm, and bright. The air

moved gently, carrying spicy, sweet and earthy smells, through the pipes and leaves

from room to room.

! There are tens of thousands of known orchid species across the world, and new

ones keep being found and created on every continent. The Netherlands has the

largest cloning facilities, a process of creating a new plant from a cutting. China is

enthralled with Cymbidiums, and they are collected from the mountains and plants are

divided and sold, sometimes for thousands of dollars (one rumored at having been sold

for over $1,000,000). In Ecuador there is a reserve where orchids are grown in their

natural habitats, watched over by armed security. In the USA breeders pollinate by

hand and grow new plants from seed. American orchid growers typically focus on

propagating “species” orchids or they focus on hybridizing orchids. The species

focused breeders highly value parent plants who have come from the wild or who are

direct offspring from plants that are collected from the wild. Their goal is to continue the

lifeline of the species by breeding hardy plants that maintain the characteristics of those

in the wild, including fragrance and floriferousness. There are already many species

that are extinct or endangered in the wild, and these growers greenhouses are the only

places and hope left for them. Those focused on hybridizing orchids typically are

obsessively working towards a specific flower they have envisioned. They cross breed

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repeatedly, by trial and error, seeking out the combination that will produce their ideal

flower. Many orchids are very slow growing, taking years from successful pollination to

mature plant; so whether a grower is focused on species or hybridized orchids they

must be extremely dedicated to the process.

! At the end of September I visited the Chicagoland Orchid Festival. The festival

was hosted at four green houses, that were spread out west of the city; from I-55 on the

south to I-90 on the north. We set off first thing in the morning on Saturday, heading

west on I-90 and north towards Oak Hill Gardens. It was the first greenhouse we

visited, and the one I found most impressive. From the outside it doesnʼt look like

much, a driveway almost hidden by bushes, a modest house, and behind it a building

that looks from the front a bit like a garage or hobby house. The first room you walk into

is the office/shop and is reminiscent of most small businesses, itʼs not particularly bright,

and you can tell the room functions as a retail space as well as an office. Then passing

the shelves of pots, baskets, potting medium, and mounting supplies you enter into the

green house proper. Immediately the space is suffused with soft bright light, itʼs warmer

and there is green everywhere. Orchids are growing in pots on long tables that are

close together, and they are hanging from the wall, mounted on various size pieces of

bark and wood. The ceiling is high, and although there is not much extra space,

everything is so neat, organized and clean that there is a sense of spaciousness and of

harmony. The plants are healthy with green shining leaves and well formed flowers.

There is not a brown spot or wilted leaf to be seen. As I listen to passionate voice

across the room lecturing to a group about how the orchids are cared for, I realized that

I am in a place where these plants are not just grown, they are loved. As we go on to

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visit the other three greenhouses, the peaceful and pleasant atmosphere of the Oak Hill

Gardens greenhouses are only accentuated.

! Later, in October I was given the opportunity to interview the owner and founder

of Oak Hill Gardens, Mr. Herman Pigors. We met on a Saturday afternoon, the

greenhouses were quiet and still with the festival crowds gone. When I arrived he was

back in the green houses, he walked through the door way light shining on his white

hair, wearing clean blue jeans and a button up shirt. He offered to show me the green

house, but as I had already seen them I asked instead to see the lab. We went into the

small windowless room, and He showed me how orchids are grown from seed to plant.

He showed me the flasks with a thin layer of goo in the bottom; usually green, a sign of

life and growth. He showed me the bottles of tiny growths, so delicate that they could

not yet be exposed to the air. He showed me how he sterilized - the room, the utensils,

the bottles; turning the fan on, picking each instrument up and demonstrating his hands

moving quickly with years of practice - so that as they grew the plants could be moved

from one bottle to the next. He showed me the powder that was seeds, in the small

dark room where he planted, transplanted, and waited for the signs of life. His hands

moved methodically as he spoke and acted out the process, constantly stressing the

importance of a sterile environment. Mold spores would also grow in the bottles, if

allowed the opportunity, and the delicate sprouts would be killed by them. A plant that

will grow large enough to fill a six inch pot, has seeds like powder and seedlings that

can be killed by a single mold spore.

Then we left the room, walked down a small hall, walked through a medium size

room, and he showed me the bright room full of successful seedlings, not big enough to

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be out of the bottle but big enough for light. The shelves of free standing metal racks

were covered in square glass bottles, lying on their sides, with their aluminum covered

tops pointing towards the isle, and full of bright green growth. Each one of the hundreds

of bottles before me had been planted and transplanted manually as the seedlings grew

and over took the enclosed space. The transplant process took hours, so that only

twenty to sixty bottles could be done in a day. In awe I was observing hundreds of

hours of work, and thousands of dollars worth of plants.

! As Iʼve learned more about orchids the first thought that came to mind was that

orchid enthusiasts are obsessed, but as Iʼve talked to them theyʼve described

themselves as addicted. Which leads me to question what the difference is between

the two. I had always believed that an addiction was something bad, that harmed you

and you did anyway; and that an obsession was healthy and productive and that it was

enjoyable. Clearly these self described orchid addicts are happy with the situation, and

I donʼt see the harm in growing some plants. Albeit they admit to buying them when the

canʼt really afford them, and to moving because theyʼve run out of space. So weʼre not

talking about one or two plants. Thus, I look up: addict, “to give oneself up to some

strong habit1;” obsess, “to preoccupy greatly 2.” And so I begin to understand. They

have given themselves over to the orchids.

! We sit and talk in a room built with specific lighting and insulation, a room built to

be the ideal growing environment for seedlings fresh from the bottle, too young and

small to warrant their own pots, but large and strong enough to grow in large trays. Mr

1 Websterʼs New World Dictionary 3rd College Edition

2 Websterʼs New World Dictionary 3rd College Edition

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Pigors talks about the orchid industry and career as a horticulturist. His voice is soft but

strong, his accent and articulation quickly distinguishing him from the typical Midwest

farmer. As I meet and talk with more and more orchid enthusiasts I find this to be

typical. They are articulate, intelligent, and educated people. When I ask him about

how he got into orchids he talks about how at 14 he chose his profession, and how he

got a rare and coveted position at a greenhouse specializing in orchids. He never

explains exactly why, but there in the way he talks it seems that he never considered

anything else, as though it was a whispered calling. As he talks I wonder at how

fortunate he is to have been able to spend his life doing what interests him; at some

point he recognizes it also, and murmurs “Iʼve actually been quite lucky.” He carriers the

same misery Iʼve recognized in my father in law, a misery I do not understand, but just

as my father in laws misery is counterbalanced, so is his; and the counter balance is

clearly the greenhouse we are sitting in. He mentions that he is retired, but that he still

comes in to run the lab. Thereʼs no-one else to do it. He worries that orchids are fad,

because theyʼve had quick changes in popularity. From being cultivated in the personal

greenhouses of the elite, to being a must have for corsages in the 50ʻs, to being all over

TV and stores today. Since the economy has downturned so have orchid sales. He

worries about how the business that his family runs will survive when the fad expires.

He propagates species, and his work is important, but it canʼt continue if there is no

market for it. The fan hums quietly in the background. Weʼve been talking for hours,

but time is lost in the quiet serenity of the growing room.

! The orchid industry is a truly global industry, originally my plan had been to focus

on growers in the Chicago area, but orchids grow all over the world, and they are traded

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all over the world. At the Illinois Orchid Society November meeting, Joe Dixler

discussed a trip he made to China to view orchids, Hadley Cash, owner of Marriott

Orchids in North Carolina, talked about selling orchids to buyers from Japan. At the

festival in September I bought an orchid imported from Ecuador. A lot of this traveling,

buying and selling all over the world is driven by a desire to find new and unique

species. The orchids are discovered and collected. This is a part of the orchid

addiction, the orchid itself is not contained to a geographic region, and so neither is the

addict. They are constantly seeking out new flowers and each other. Part of the joy of

having orchids is sharing them.

! This addiction is an addiction of knowledge. The addict wants to know about the

plants, and to do so they must cultivate them. After reading numerous books and

articles about orchids I see this to be true. You can be told that orchids are difficult to

grow, or how they will react to different types of treatment, but in reality it varies from

plant to plant. Orchids are as unique as people. They have some general care

requirements, based on the species, but the specific care: when to water, when to

fertilize, which way to turn the pot; varies from plant to plant. Being around those who

cultivate orchids, thereʼs almost a guarantee youʼll hear the following phrase, or

something very similar “I check every plant every day. Thereʼs no schedule, because

thatʼs not how it works.” This checking, is touching, smelling, looking. Because of the

unique growing habitats of each species, the orchid requires this intense interactive

care, that leads to intimate knowledge of the plant.

! Walking through the Chicago Botanic Garden early in the morning, the cool wind

gently shakes leafless vines, and ruffles tall grasses. Almost all of the bright colors of

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summer are gone. The lily ponds are drained of water, lined with straw, and filled with

evergreens. A few frost burned blossoms remain in the rose garden, where a grey tarp

covering the fountain billows and rustles in the sharp cold wind. There are no

photographers, or wedding parties, only a few small quite groups, walking slowly and

huddled close together. I walk up through the pines, and across the stones and gravel,

noting the fresh scent and bright green needles. I look out across the garden, and see

empty fields, and all I hear is the hush of the wind. Itʼs lonesome and peaceful, a

completely different garden from the one I visited in July. The cold is becoming

uncomfortable, and my tea is tepid; so I head for the Regenstein Center, where the

Illinois Orchid Society meeting is to be held.

! As soon as I enter the room I am greeted by an exuberant elderly man. He asks

me if Iʼve just joined, I say no but Iʼm thinking about it. Five minutes later an

enthusiastic blonde gentleman begins to extol the virtues of the society to me. A little

later I am corralled into a group of newbies Iʼm not sure how I wound up there, but an

elegant woman with gems on the sides of her glasses introduces herself to me. She

apologizes in advance for forgetting my name, and I apologize also, because Iʼve

already forgotten hers. None of it matters; we begin to talk about orchids, I hear three

times that day about how difficult my ghost orchid is to grow, but that I should talk to Joe

his created seven blossoms last year. There are numerous Joeʼs in the group, and

every time the name is said a hand waves in a vague direction and I donʼt know who

theyʼre talking about. Itʼs so obvious who Joe is, that itʼs evidently not necessary to give

him a last name or a face.

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! Iʼm asked a few times if Iʼll join, someone answers that I should be left alone, Iʼve

already agreed to. But Iʼm not left alone, what kind of orchids do I have, which one on

the table is my favorite, notice what an excellent species, and then itʼs time for the

meeting proper. Iʼm overwhelmed by the kindness and enthusiasm of the people

around me. Thereʼs a table, in the shadows, full of half eaten sweets, but Iʼve not seen

a single person eating, only lots of gesticulating and intense observation of the brightly

colored and exotically shaped group of orchids on the tables stretched in front of the

windows that run the length of the room. The orchids have the place of honor, and

although there are groups talking through the room, they are the center of activity. They

are clearly why everyone is here. Before this day, I had experienced orchid lovers as

introverted and private. But being there, surrounded by them, they were suddenly

extroverted. The feeling was very similar to walking into a role playing game, after only

having encountered geeks in the library. They were in their own environment then, and

they blossomed and flourished, just as the beautiful delicate blossoms bathed in the soft

glow of the winter sun.

! I sit and listen to two lectures. At the end it is announced that whole foods has

donated orchids, and anyone that wants one can have one or two, or as many as they

want. Originally they were going to sell them, but thereʼs just too many. I go back to the

room, where the judging happened during the lecture, to look at them. They are

phalaenopsis, white with pink centers if you look closely you can see theyʼre actually

yellow inside with pink flecks. Most have a few blossoms left, some are in pretty bad

condition. They look sad, and itʼs quite clear they were donated because Whole Foods

wasnʼt able to sell all of them. Iʼm asked if I want one, and I say yes. This is the second

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free orchid Iʼve received in my quest, and I think of Mr. Pigors, and Oak Hill Gardens,

and wonder what will happen.

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