![]() ![]() “The stem that the flower is on literally hooks up. Then, she says, it stood up - eager for birds and bugs to swoop in and collect some of its pollen. She photographed as it extended four inches long. The orchid cactus on the fourth floor began pushing out a single green bud that hung down from its fleshy stem. In early May, Zellmer noticed it happening again. In the U.S., the plant is popular among gardeners (scroll halfway down the page) who invite friends over for bloom night, pour wine, and watch. In Southeast Asia, it’s revered as a sacred home to the Hindu god Brahma and it’s believed if you pray while it’s blooming, you’re prayers will be answered. Some cultures claim orchid cactus stem extract works as a cough suppressant, while others cook the petals into a soup that’s assumed to be an aphrodisiac. In the nearly two centuries since, its beauty has been mythologized by epic poets and its essence bottled. de Candolle for first discovering the plant in 1828. The scientific community recognizes a man named A. But it’s this pure white,” her eyes light up with the memory. “It looks like a little spider in the middle. As students and faculty celebrated outside during the university’s welcome back party, Zellmer sat alone in the library, watching. The orchid cacti first caught Zellmer’s eye last August when one of the library’s three specimens threw off several buds. Its’ six stories are built around a central atrium crowned by a fifteen-foot-tall fig tree.Įvery nook and cranny is filled up, forcing patrons to duck under hanging pots of ferns and squeeze in between bookshelves and the century old jade plant. Made mostly of glass, the library is humid and prone to molding. Malpass Library opened in 1976 and was arguably designed more for plants than for books and people. “The plants provide a different kind of atmosphere,” she says. When she takes a break, she likes to leave her cluttered office and sit in the building’s common area, amidst the thousands of potted plants the library houses. Malpass Library at Western Illinois University, spends her days reading academic journals and deciphering maps. “Things have to be totally right to bloom,” she says. “It is a very, very showy flower,” Zelmer says. But tonight is its one chance to do what it was meant to do: spread its seeds. This particular Lady of the Night lives a solitary life, rooted in a small pot under the shadow of an umbrella tree. “Sometimes it gets to the point where it’s really overpowering.” Like, this whole area will smell like this flower,” Zellmer says, snapping photos. Its’ strong, sweet smell meant to draw pollinators, like birds and bugs, close. The orchid cactus flowers in hopes of reproducing. Botanists name it Epiphyllum oxypetalum, but the plant’s elaborate, nocturnal mating dance has earned it the nickname of “Queen of the Night” or “Lady of the Night.” While most plants flower for weeks, orchid cacti only blossom for a few short hours a year, and always at night. Zellmer perches on a stool behind her camera and waits in anticipation of the night’s big event: the moment when the bud opens. “There it is,” she says, gazing down at the swollen bud of an orchid cactus. She opens it and guides us up four dark floors towards a puddle of light. Silently, Linda Zellmer appears on the other side of the glass door. It’s Monday, around 9 o’clock, and the library is locked for the night. But for some species, the ritual takes place over just a few hours. It’s when plants perform an elaborate dance to draw pollinators close. This season is more than a pretty time of year. ![]()
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