The first Clivia I grew was, for a considerable length of time, until my husband murdered it during the winter of 2024, the longest surviving houseplant I had never not killed. Until its untimely euthanasia (have I yet mentioned the murder?) it blossomed dependably for over four decades, gladly offering its quotidian orange flowers each winter without fidget or fuss on my part. And there was, with each blossoming every year, more than a small flowery flash of guilt. I had grown it from seed found on the floor at Molbak’s in Woodinville, WA in 1980. Well….. it may not have been precisely ‘on the floor’ though I fully sensed a great deal of gravity in this matter. (much later, Nils Molbak would become a friend, with a full clivial confession made during a dinner party at Windcliff)
The genus was named in honor of Lady Charlotte Percy Clive (1787-1866), later the Duchess of Northumberland, who was amongst the first in England to grow these evergreen relatives of the Amaryllis, collected in South Africa by British imperialists in the early 19th century. There are no historical records of her ever having stolen a Clivia seed, nor that her husband, with or without malice, wantonly murdered her plants.
There are a total of six species and native only to South Africa and Eswatini, generally at home under trees and thusly-in our homes- adapted to low light conditions. Clivia miniata has been the touchstone of the genus under cultivation for decades- with heads of broad, tubular flowers in orange and orange/scarlet. It was not long ago that yellow flowering selections were selling for 1K, however dedicated breeding across the world has resulted in a highly variable inventory of interspecific species, resulting in intriguing color combinations, flower shapes and much lower prices.
Berries can be harvested, or stolen, just as they begin to turn yellow or red, and the seed, if sown fresh, will germinate within weeks. Fawning a bit over the seedlings for the first two years, providing bright conditions, regular watering and fertilization in spring and summer, will truncate the wait for that inaugural flowering. On the third year, if you have been a good person, stop watering in October and store under bright but cool conditions. Explain to your husband, if you are to be away from home, that although 26F may seem refreshing to some, being cool generally refers to temps in the 40’s. In mid-January, bring them into warmth and a bright conditions and begin regular watering. You need not place them in direct sunlight though they do not resent the rays. And then the magic; the first buds opening to the brew and stew of your imaginations, from sowing to transplanting to coddling and then encouraging.
Clivia is amongst only a few genera in the Amaryllidaceae that do not form bulbs, rather dense fleshy roots. As your pots begin to rip and tear like tight jeans after falling off the Adkins diet, this trait lends itself to easy division, performed in spring as growth resumes.
Despite the fact that many of us in the PNW ( because we use electric leaf blowers, drink free-trade coffee and consider President Musk and First Laddy Trump to be a clear and present danger to democracy) feel we deserve hardy Clivias, and many of us have tried, bragging rights will come from only a plant or two that has survived, not thrived. But as a containerized plant, nothing will be easier nor will bring you more satisfaction. My ever-increasing collection always sets a plethora of seed. We have cameras in place; don’t even think about it.
DJH. February 2nd, 2025
