Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Delicate Addiction
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
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
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
! 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
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
! 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
! 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
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
! 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
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
! 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
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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
explains exactly why, but there in the way he talks it seems that he never considered
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
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,
! 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
! 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
! 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
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
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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
! 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,
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