Part I:
That is what happened to me. Several years ago, at a social event, we met a man who lived nearby. In casual conversation he mentioned his garden and invited us to visit – and we did. His home sat on a large lot, and he described how he had cleared the entire lot himself, creating pathways and beautiful garden beds that produced blooms throughout the year. As we were leaving, he walked to a tree and pulled down a hanging plastic pot with a nondescript plant of broad green leaves. He briefly explained that he’d propagated it and that it was a plant that might bloom some day but only at night.
I’m not the gardener he thought I was. I placed the pot on our patio, watered it, and maybe fed it at times. It grew taller and produced shoots and more leaves, but there was nothing floral about it. It was not a plant of beauty and I must admit that it was neglected beyond casual watering and feeding. It was just there, at the back of our house.
I must admit that I do not know how many years went by that it simply existed like that – simply ignored. The man who shared the plant with us succumbed to his illness and I’d think of him and his generosity at times as I gazed at the plant trying to find its beauty. Looking back, I may have noticed small nodules protruding from the enormous leaves but never investigated further or followed up.
And then, one summer – Duh! – I finally noticed that a nodule was expanding. Following it daily, it opened one magical night, producing a beautiful bloom with a delightful aroma. Since it was late on a summer night I mentally thought of inviting friends over to see it the next evening, but it only blooms for one precious night. It may have been the following year that I paid attention and when the special night came, Ron and Cristina joined us to see the plant’s one-night performance.
This was so good, it had to be shared. Finally from research about the Queen of the Night I learned how to easily propagate its cuttings. I shared with Cristina, who maintained a lovely garden of her own (later moving with her plants to Texas), and I shared with others, even mailing to a long time friends in Florida and New York.
Last summer, the summer of 2025, is the year that the Queen outdid herself. I now had two pots and each produced two blooms at the same time. What a night that was! I placed one pot in the driveway with a sign announcing the impending bloom and several neighbors visited our Queen throughout the night. Seeing their delight, I prepared four mini pots with cuttings intended as gifts for them at Christmastime so that they would each have their own Queen.
Unfortunately, that did not happen. Later, in a conversation with Cristina she asked about the Queen and I avoided a direct response, until now.
Queen of the Night for Cristina
She had to ask, “. . . and how is your night blooming plant doing?”
And sadly, I must now tell her tale.
It was a glorious summer for our Queen as she presented her blooms
not once, but again and again.
And this time we were not the only ones to see her show.
This time she performed for a wider audience.
She shared her splendor with us and was the delight of others.
Her pot was placed at the foot of the driveway for all to see.
It carried a sign inviting passersby to the upcoming performance.
Would it be her final performance?
She was so enamored with herself that she produced
not one, but two blooms nestled together.
What a show – but she always performs well for an audience.
What a night that was on the corner of Blossom and Sunnydale –
that night of her flowering!
Neighbors visited and checked on her hourly.
They captured photos of her in her glory from all angles, and
as the night went on she became even more expansive, more extravagant, and more magnificent.
And, what a fragrance she produced for us!
She was indeed, a sight to be seen, a gift to us.
After her performance was over and summer ended, she was returned to the patio.
And in fall all we could see were her flat, unappealing, dark green leaves.
And early in winter what we had was a long, hard, unexpected, extremely long-lasting frost.
She was not dressed for the frost.
And that is the end. . .
Or is it?
Part II:
Seeing the delight she brought to the neighbors, I’d filled four mini-pots with cuttings, knowing they would easily take root. They were placed on the table in our covered patio, intended to bring a little holiday cheer to our neighbors. This patio is where the Queen resided so it seemed to be the best place for them. Winters are usually mild in South Carolina, at least until later in the season.
However, that was before the surprisingly early frost in mid-December.
After the frost –
There just was nothing left. Could it be that I’d lost the entire plant that I’ve had more than ten years? That plant was an heirloom from the garden of Gunars Strazdins – a kind and friendly man who joyfully shared his plant, grown from a cutting, with me – had I really lost it?
I found just one leaf in the original pot that was green although it appeared to be unresponsive, dead. I watered it and placed it in its old favorite location. Each day I’d look for some sign of life, but there was none.
Until today
April 19, 2026
