It happened one night

’m not much of a latenight partier, especially with people I’ve never met, but last week I received an invitation I couldn’t refuse. It came in the form of an email from reader Trudy Wetzel, of Exton, PA, inviting me to a sort of “coming out” party for her night-blooming cereus.

The email read, “Hi, Pam. I have a large greenhouse with two nightblooming cereus plants. They will bloom in 3-5 days. One has 19 buds of which 11 will bloom at one time. They bloom about 1:00 in the morning and the bloom is gone at dawn. Would you like to come and see this rare event? I may have some friends over also.” Well, sure!

That was Wednesday. The next message from Wetzel came Friday night: “Hi, Pam, They are blooming now!!! Come on over if you can.” Great! Except that in anticipation of a 1 a.m. event, I went to sleep early Friday night, which turned out to be about 15 minutes before she sent her email. When my alarm went off just after midnight, I discovered the email. I felt ridiculous for not having just stayed up.

There’s the old saying that goes, “If you snooze, you lose.” That was literally true for me: I missed the event. No big deal? Actually, yes. The nightblooming cereus produces flowers rarely, usually just once a year. The blossoms unfold at night and shrivel up the following dawn.

While I missed The Great Flowering—Wetzel counted 26 blossoms on her two plants Friday night— I was able to talk with her a few days later to get some details. Mostly, I wanted to know what led her to start growing these unusual plants.

She said that she learned about the plant through her mother-inlaw, who had one of the cacti. “It never grew like these, though,” said Wetzel. She bought her own two plants from Logee’s in Danielson, CT, which specializes in fruiting, rare, and tropical plants. They did well, until Wetzel and her husband took a winter trip to Florida and their greenhouse lost power.

“Everything died,” she said. “I just put it all into the basement to deal with later.” Surprisingly, when Wetzel finally went down to cut up the dead cereus and throw them out, she saw a half-inch tiny leaf at the base of each plant. She cut away the dead growth and put the plants back into the greenhouse where they are now 10 to 12 feet tall.

Wetzel said that the night-blooming cereus is “not a really attractive plant—until it blooms.” When it does, she said, “the fragrance is the most incredible perfume.” She added that her greenhouse is at least fifty feet from her house, but when the plants are blooming she can smell their fragrance just by opening her door.

Setting my alarm to get up near midnight reminded me of a visit several years ago to the Cloister in Ephrata, PA. One of the things I learned that struck me deeply was that the members of the cloister believed that Jesus would return, there, in the middle of the night. Some day. So, year-round, the residents arose at midnight and gathered in the meeting hall to be ready.

Waiting in the dark for a miracle is a powerful experience in itself. The rare unfolding of an incredibly beautiful, sweet-scented flower is a miracle in its own way, and one I think is worth waking up for. I just wish I’d gotten to experience the event.

Note: Night-blooming cereus (Peniocereus greggii) is a member of the cactus family, native to parts of Arizona, Texas and northern Mexico.

Pam Baxter is an avid organic vegetable gardener who lives in Kimberton. Direct e-mail to pamelacbaxter@gmail. com, or send mail to P.O. Box 80, Kimberton, PA 19442. Share your gardening stories on Facebook at “Chester County Roots.” And check out Pam’s book for children and families: Big Life Lessons from Nature’s Little Secrets. Available at amazon.com

PHOTO BY TRUDY WETZEL The rare flower of the night-blooming cereus.