An Orchid by any Other Name

I often wonder how hybridizers and award winners decide on a name for their plants when called upon to give one.  Sometimes it’s obvious but many times it is a mystery.  A couple of years ago, I had acquired a very small seedling of an orchid hybrid from an grower I had come to know in Florida.  The cross was between Ryncattleanthe (syn Blc.) Orange Nuggett (from R.F. Orchids) and Cattlianthe (syn Slc.) Galaxy Belle (from T.Orchids).  I am partial to the compact cattleyas and especially to those of orange and yellow.  I pampered this fragile seedling for more than two years giving it lots of light and regular, but not too frequent waterings and on October 1 of 2010 it rewarded me with two beautiful blooms.  They were brilliant orange for the most part and they also displayed hues of yellow at the base of the lip and maroon along its ruffled fringes and along the outside edges of the petals and sepals.  If this special cross blooms each year at this time, its colours are certainly well-suited for the autumn season.

The Fall is my favourite season – due in part to my partiality toward the colours that dominate it but also because of my intolerance of the heat.  Certainly that year, October brought some relief with it.  At the same time the Fall is filled with sentiment for me because it was 16 years ago this year that my father passed away after having been ravaged by a relentless cancer that showed no mercy.   It defeated a man who had shown undaunted strength in dealing with the many tragedies that marked his life.  His father died when he was quite young and at a time when his siblings had already ventured out and had established a life of their own.  So it fell upon him to help support his aged mother and maintain the meager family farm.   He volunteered to enlist when the Nazi’s invaded Europe and was a gunner in the Royal Canadian Air Force at the age of 19 until a serious injury brought him home.  He then married and, along with my mother, raised 5 children who, in my mind, turned out pretty good.  To provide for us, he had a full-time job as a tool & die maker and also played guitar (he came from a musically inclined family) in a band that performed on weekends at weddings and parties to earn extra money – he abruptly gave up music once his full-time job was enough to ensure that we lacked none of life’s necessities.  His only brother, and his best friend, chose suicide over a lonely existence as a widower and Dad put up a strong front to handle the job as executor, never being able to fully grieve for his loss.  

My relationship with my father was not everything I wish it had been.  Don’t misunderstand me – I admire(d) and love(d) him.  He was devoted to his family, a constant provider and protector.   Conversations were awkward between us because, I thought, we had little in common.  He was a hunter, a pastime he carried from his youth when he managed the farm and provided for his mother.  It was his passion and he looked forward to it every September.   Now, in retrospect, I realize that we did share that appreciation for the Fall season.  In the summer months, before duck hunting season opened, he would spend hours tending to his roses and vegetable garden.  It was from him that I gained my appreciation of the therapeutic value of tending to your plants.  And so, we shared that as well.  He also taught me that there are many kinds of people in the world - some who will become your life-long friends and others who will do everything in their power not to be.  I've met them both.

So you are probably wondering where I am going with all this rambling.  Well, back to that first bloom seedling I talked about in the beginning.   As I said, the intense colour of it reminds me of the season and all the sentiments that go with it, especially my Dad.  And so, with the help of my friend, the Florida orchid breeder, I started the process of having the orchid hybrid named after my Dad.  Today, on the anniversary of his passing, a letter arrived from the Royal Horticultural Society notifying me that my application had finally been accepted and that my once untitled, first-bloom seedling is now to be known as Ryncattleanthe (Blc.) Memoria Wilfred Cott.  Happy hunting Dad – if only you were here, we’d have so much to sit and chat about.                      

Ryncattleanthe (Blc.) Memoria Wilfred Cott