Previously published in The American Orchid Society Magazine May 2004: winner of the 2003 Gordon W. Dillon/Richard C. Peterson Memorial Essay Award

I feel like a border collie. Eyes glued on the plants I gently herd them about, twisting a pot, picking off a dead flower, nudging another plant back into place. As I move around the growing tables the plants hum their appreciation. “Honey, you are not listening to me.” The words cut into my reverie, the hum apparently not coming from the plants but rather my beloved spouse JP. I can’t look away from my latest acquisition, a stunning white cattleya from Hawaii. Without turning I respond honestly that no, I was not listening and apologize. Then, before he can draw in a breath I implore him to investigate the aroma of this latest plant, distracting him from what might have been a timely reprimand.