When a warm, slightly citrusy scent began to waft through the humid Mississippi air, Eudora Welty knew it was time for a party. The author was one in a centuries-long tradition of gardeners who watched, waited, and smelled for signs of an imminent bloom from a plant that flowers under the cover of night. “We’re talking about the original pajama party plants,” says Felder Rushing, host of Mississippi Public Broadcasting’s The Gestalt Gardener.
The night-blooming cereus, an apt title for a group of Central and South American tree-dwelling cacti that bloom for one night only, has been the guest of honor at Southern parties for hundreds of years. When the plant’s slender petals start to unfurl, “it’s an excuse for people to get together and linger late into the night, a real Southern thing,” says Rushing, whose own plants come from cuttings of Welty’s.
Perhaps the most beloved of the cacti is Welty’s favorite, Epiphyllum oxypetalum, known as the queen of the night. But another popular soiree selection is Epiphyllum hookeri. (Neither plant is actually in the cereus genus, but both still use the moniker.) They’re two of a handful of celebrated nocturnal bloomers whose flowers range from crisp white to robust red and burst into the night air from summer until December, depending on your area’s climate.
Growing tips
The first step to achieving a miraculous one-night bloom, of course, is sourcing your cactus. In the spirit of Southern hospitality, your best bet may be to ask a neighbor, or at least what might constitute one in the age of the internet. While Welty took to word of mouth to hand out cuttings to friends in Jackson, “people don’t whoop it up together like we used to,” Rushing says. “We do our social media stuff.” So, search for a local gardening group on Facebook and ask away.
Another option is to “call your local county extension office,” Rushing says. “They’ll put you in touch with the master gardener, and you’ll have fifteen people giving you cuttings. This plant grows like crazy, so people are obligated to share.”
Once you’ve procured a cutting, pop it in some well-draining soil once the threat of winter frost has passed. To replicate its natural growing environment, a hanging basket is a good choice (they like to be root-bound). They also like bright light but not so direct they burn. If you are doubting your placement, Rushing has a general rule of thumb: “Think of them hanging in a tropical tree.”
Luckily, the hardest part is over. These plants are sprawling, prolific, and remarkably easy to grow. After potting, the key to a successful night-blooming cereus is every plant killer’s dream: negligence. “Don’t coddle it,” Rushing says. “Put it in a hanging basket out on the porch and forget about it. It’ll be great, and it blooms better that way.”
Although many believe it takes several years for a night-blooming cereus to flower, Rushing disagrees. You may be ready to host your own night-bloom party within the year. “If you take a cutting from a mature plant, just three inches long, it could bloom,” he says. In the meantime, don’t be discouraged if your cactus isn’t living up to its saguaro relatives; these plants are a bit of an ugly duckling until they bloom, which can easily be rectified by planting other, fuller plants in their basket.
A cereus-ly fun celebration
To know when you’re ready to host a night-blooming party, look to the buds. They’ll be the tell-tale sign that a night-blooming cereus is almost ready to erupt in beautiful white blooms and share its subtle fragrance. “A couple of weeks before it opens, you’ll start seeing these finger-sized buds, which look a little serrated. You’ll know within a week if it’s about to bloom.”
So get to know your plant, and if you aren’t right the first time, that’s okay too. It’s just an excuse for more evening festivities on subsequent nights. “I remember sitting around one night at my great-grandmother’s house, waiting for it to flower, and it didn’t,” Rushing recalls. “But we came back again, and it bloomed the next day.”
Now, Rushing would love to see night-blooming parties make a comeback among younger generations. “It’s hard for young people to get together,” he says. “But I’d love to see a bar with one of these plants.” The parties do still occur across the South and can often be found in the same Facebook groups that facilitate cereus swaps. But Rushing hasn’t been to one in “years and years,” he says. “If there’s not beer involved, I won’t do it. I’m a grouchy old guy who doesn’t like to party anymore.”
But for everyone else, he has some words of advice: “Get one and have a party!” After all, a night-blooming party can have a little something for everyone: casual chatting with friends, food and drinks aplenty, a chance to slow down and admire our natural world, and a definitive time to kick out the stragglers. Although the flowers often peak around midnight, they bid a final, fragrant goodbye when they sense the rising sun.
