CHAPTER 2
MINIATURE GARDENS WITH ARTIFICIAL LIGHT
The three tiny rooms of the Greenwich Village apartment possess a total of two narrow, old-fashioned windows; yet in its darkest corners bloom some of the most gorgeous gesneriads I’ve ever seen. In similar fourth-floor quarters on New York’s dreary 41st Street, miniature orchids and other tropicals make a flamboyant jungle. In an attic in Levittown, a cellar in Bayside, a heated garage in Westchester, plants make it look like July in January, living their life cycles over and over again without ever seeing the sun. The life they must have for existence is supplied by electricity.
Time was, when windows were the only place in the house where plants could be grown. But since government scientists first grew corn to maturity under artificial light at Beltsville, Maryland (back when I had more interest in boys and dating than in gardening), that picture has certainly changed. Now, all sorts of plants can flourish in the most unlikely places. Home decorators can use plants ornamentally wherever they look best, and create the conditions in which they grow best. The hobbyist who can’t afford a greenhouse can have a most satisfactory and inexpensive substitute in unused places in the house. And a greenhouse owner can double his growing space without adding another section of glass.
Naturally enough, scientific research in this field has been aimed at helping florists, farmers, and others to whom plants are a business; but amateurs have benefited, too. The principle of photoperiodism—that some plants set buds and flower only when nights are long, some others only when nights are short—led to delaying the flowering of commercial chrysanthemums by interrupting the long night with a period of light. Amateurs have used the same principle to force tuberous begonias to flower in winter by lengthening the day with several hours of artificial light.
The discovery and isolation of a light-sensitive enzyme, photochrome, has been applied to cyclic lighting—a less costly method of regulating flowering by flashing lights on and off at intervals. Probing the mysteries of photochrome has also given orchid fanciers a better understanding of their plants’ blooming habits and has even made it possible, with some species, to have flowers twice or three times a year, rather than just once.
If I may be permitted a slight prejudice, it’s these amateur benefits that make me happiest. I love plants; and I think millions of other people do. From the windows of my commuting train I see New York tenement tenants wistfully watering morning glories that pathetically climb fire-escape trellises. More prosperous Manhattanites spend small fortunes on florists’ plants to bring the breath of green life into their sterile apartments; and their disappointment, if the plants die, is pitiable. Suburbanites have a yen to make a hobby of collecting plants. And now they can. I know, because I did.
In our roomy, old-fashioned cellar in Bayside we had triple-decker shelves fitted with fluorescent lights where we grew everything from begonias (finally, a collection of more than 350 varieties) to annuals for the gardens out of doors. That was some years ago. The information about lighting was sparse, inconclusive, and often confusing. Our light intensity was inadequate, and there were other deficiencies which we would correct were we setting up that cellar greenhouse today. But our successes were fascinating, our failures a challenge. And the hours we spent working with those plants in the cellar often were our only moments of refreshment and relaxation.
The hobbyist, with his dividends of fun, is not the only one who benefits from this new concept of light and plants. There is the home home-decorator, the woman of the house, who finds in plants the sort of ornament the entire family enjoys. She’d like the graceful lines of a vine tumbling down from the mantel, jewel-like flowering plants on the shelf of a corner cupboard, a garden of green atop the room divider between the living and dining areas. Frustratingly, she discovers that where the plants are most effective, too often they won’t grow and flourish. It is usually because there is insufficient light for their life processes. But now, she can set up a light on the mantel, install fluorescent tubes beneath cupboard shelves, or let ceiling lights flood the plants above the room dividers. Such lighting has a double effect, it enables the plants to flourish, and it gives a dramatic accent to the décor of the house.
Interesting combination of bookcase and lights for African violets and begonias of several varieties