However you say it, this plant is an outdoor gem
Kalanchoe. Yikes. How to pronounce it?
For years, I was dismissed as a rube for getting it wrong (“It’s Kal-an-CO-ee,” prissy hoity horts would say, with a superior smirk.) Yet others aren’t so particular.
Last winter, while visiting a vivero (garden centre) in Mexico, I asked the beaming, sombrero-clad owner what the name of this plant was.
“Es KalanCHO” he said, putting heavy emphasis on the last syllable, proffering a pot for my inspection.
“It’s not called Kal-an-CO-ee?” I asked.
The man looked puzzled. So I explained that back where I came from, gardeners considered it incorrect to pronounce the plant’s name that way.
“Ah senora,” he said, laughing. “Who cares? It is a pretty plant, no?” “Si.” “Well then,” he patted the pot’s side. “That is all that matters, no?”
Trust a Mexican to put things in perspective. And he was right. Whatever way you say it (and I’ve recently discovered that growers in Niagara say CHO too) Kalanchoe is undeniably pretty, in a dainty way.
Or rather, it can be. Originally from Madagascar, this plant is known as a succulent, because of its drought-tolerant, fleshy leaves. And we’ve always treated it as strictly a houseplant in Canada. But I was never a fan, because the sprays of little flowers (always in a tedious orange or yellow) would last for a bit, then fall off and I could never make mine rebloom.
In fact, in the exasperating houseplant department, Kalanchoe was king. If I had a dollar for every specimen bought on impulse and then tossed out three months later by an irritated owner, I’d be rich.
Yet forget indoors. There’s a trend now to grow these tropical plants outside —
The flowers are so bright and prolific, they’re like a traffic light
in containers or flowerbeds — during the summer. And, surprise, cantankerous Kalanchoe works like a charm, provided it gets plenty of sun. The sprays of little flowers can actually look quite dazzling.
Besides orange or yellow, they come in many other hues: shocking pink, cream, scarlet, magenta, mauve — and they are terrific en masse, or mixed with other annuals.
I discovered this in Mexico, where flats of Kalanchoe, already blooming, outshone even the most colourful cannas and begonias at the vivero. Yet in Europe — always ahead of us when it comes to gardening trends — sales of Kalanchoes for the garden are already hot. They have become the “in” thing to grow in France, Germany and Switzerland, and further north in Denmark, they grabbed the top spot last year.
Here, an outdoor Kalanchoe craze has yet to take off. Although growers in Niagara have been churning these plants out for years, we’ve invariably kept them indoors. Yet, I did notice a few colourful specimens on annual plant racks at Ontario garden centres this spring — and a fire-engine-red variety, acquired from Loblaws, has already got my thumbs up.
The flowers are so bright and prolific, they’re like a traffic light. “Stop. Take a look,” they seem to say. “Aren’t we fun?” And hallelujah, they last for ages, with no need for daily watering.
So try some, if you can find any left on sale. And ignore the prissy pronunciation police. Whatever way you say Kalanchoe, they’re a new wrinkle in gardening that’s different and fun. Sonia Day is a guest speaker on July 5 at a lunch in Plant Paradise Country Gardens, Caledon. For tickets, go to soniaday.com or plantparadisecountrygardens.ca.