Producing Easter lilies a challenge one Niagara grower truly relishes
Easter is early this year — and that makes Ed Boekestyn very happy.
He’s one of those indefatigable Dutchmen with hard-to-pronounce names (his rhymes with “wine” not “win”) who have flooded into Niagara in recent years to work wizardry with all kinds of plants.
And although standard fare such as geraniums and hibiscus are part of his family greenhouse operations at Jordan Station, Boekestyn’s absolute fave to grow is the Easter lily. Why? “I love the challenge,” he says with a grin. “So many things can go wrong. But when you get them right . . . ” he holds up a pot containing a perfect Lilium longiflorum with six unopened buds “. . . it’s great.” For sure. A tour I took recently proved the point.
Thousands and thousands of these lilies packed Boekestyn’s colossal 50,000-square-foot greenhouses — and every single plant was the same size (an essential requirement) with not a bud open anywhere (also a must). They were about to be shipped out to supermarkets and florists as far afield as Texas — and the big, beautiful mass of green was positively awe-inspiring.
I also learned a bit about the growing process. Boy, Boekestyn isn’t kidding. Producing Easter lilies en masse like this requires more technical savvy than sending astronauts into space.
These traditional symbols of Easter start their lives in Oregon’s tranquil Smith River valley. While the growing area is surprisingly small (some 600 acres) it boasts soil — mostly clay and gravel, broken up by organic matter washed off surrounding hills — that’s better than anywhere in the world for cultivating such lilies.
Farmers there peel little pieces called “scales” off existing lily bulbs and plant them. Then, over a threeyear period, they keep digging up and replanting the pieces until they become bulbs big enough to ship to growers such as the Boekestyns.
Potting up happens here in October. After that, the challenge is to get well-formed leaves, at least five buds on each plant, and stems that grow to exactly the right height (between 18 and 23 inches).
It means following a meticulous calendar of watering, fertilizing and pinching out.
(And by the way, all the water they use is recycled, which is standard procedure in Niagara greenhouse operations nowadays, so there’s no harmful fertilizer run-off into Lake Ontario.)
Boekestyn’s team checks the fledgling lilies daily, as the weather outside the greenhouse can throw things off. If there’s too much sun (or not enough) they will close blackout curtains across the greenhouse roof or tinker with the schedule.
“Obviously, no one wants to buy these plants three weeks before Easter — or three weeks afterwards,” he says. “So timing is crucial.”
Why does he prefer an early Easter?
“Once the lilies leave, we can put our greenhouses into production with bedding plants for spring. But if they have to stay here till mid April, we can’t.”
What should people look for when buying an Easter lily?
“At least five buds on the plant,” he emphasizes.
“Plants that have fewer buds are classified as seconds and should cost less.”
Boekestyn also recommends picking plants that have tightly closed buds. And he points out that their glorious trumpet-shaped blooms — which pour forth an exquisite scent — always unfurl in sequence, not at the same time.
Once flowering has finished, however, it’s game over.
“Throw the plant out,” he says bluntly. “They’re not worth keeping. Just buy another next year.” Note: Thanks to everyone who emailed about their experiences with the cereus. I read some delightful stories, including one by Albert Wong, who recalls sitting up all night with his family as a little kid in Hong Kong, waiting for this amazing flower to open. I am inspired by your tales to try growing a cereus here. Stay tuned. soniaday.com