Florists' cyclamen remind me of butterflies and angel kisses, so lovely, delicate and fleeting. Every year I kill one.
I adore these impossible plants. Right away there's trouble: they need cool temperatures -- 60 to 65 degrees in the daytime, nights at 50 -- and definitely no drafts of any kind, although good air circulation is helpful. They need good light, but not too bright -- no scorching in a southern window. An eastern or northern window is preferred.
They need high humidity, maybe daily misting plus a pebble tray. (Pebble trays are great for indoor plants during the dry winter heating season. Put a layer of gravel in a shallow tray, set the containers on the gravel, and add water to just below the bottom of the pots. Refill to offset evaporation.)
Watering
Watering provides another opportunity for missteps and melodrama. Keep soil moist while plants are in bloom but not overly so. When the normally crisp foliage hints at limpness -- but is not yet wilting -- then water. Never pour water over top of the tuber as this can cause it to rot. You may water along the pot rim, or set it in a pan of water to wick for about ten minutes, then set it aside to drain before finally replacing it in its normal location.
Good Grooming
Grooming is also important, and there is a special technique for removing tattered leaves and faded blooms: Rip them off by their little stems! Well, not exactly. A gentle tug should detach them cleanly from the tuber.
If You Have the Nerve, Encourage it to Rebloom
If your specimen arrived with loads of unopened buds, it might bloom until Valentine's Day. Eventually though, it will slow down, fade, and go dormant. Stop watering, tip the pot on its side, and keep it cool. Repot the tuber in midsummer. Cover it only halfway with potting mix and wait for it to sprout. Once sprouts appear, return to the basic regimen of cool and bright and moist but not wet. Use a water-soluble fertilizer at half strength and cross your fingers, throw salt over your shoulder, and hope for the best. Gardeners who have somehow managed to rebloom a cyclamen at home report that the flowers tend to be smaller and paler and fewer than remembered. Well gee whiz.
I used to think cyclamen was named for its cyclical nature, but that's wrong. Apparently the name comes from the Greek word "kylos" meaning circular and describing how the stems curl or spiral downward after the seeds form. I've never seen that because mine never get to that stage. I enjoy them and then throw them out. Just like a bouquet -- no strings attached, no looking back.
You and I know that plants never read columns like this -- so let this be the year all your judgement calls work out just fine: your cyclamens flourish, your tomatoes win blue ribbons, and your wildflower meadow becomes weed-free and self-sustaining. Here's to a happy, peaceful, and fruitful new year!
