orchids

The orchids are in bloom. They reach up from the stunted trunks of the stubby trees in the grasslands. Their white flowers are mildly fragrant. They are white, orange, both subtle and ostentatious. When I guide treks around the hills, I point them out to guests, who are always surprised that these are orchids?

I’d never thought too much about orchids, it was an exotic flower that didn’t really concern me or require much attention. When Sujata started pointing them out to me in September I was skeptical. These are orchids? The “Dendrobium” looked like a little stick, the “Bulbophylum” looked like, well, Bulbasaur. The ground orchids were impressive in the shape of their petals, but were otherwise a little underwhelming.

But there’s something about the epiphytic flower that I’m only beginning to appreciate as the Dedrobiums finally show their soft, white reproductive organs. They are subtle. Some flowers shout, “Pluck me!” but not these little blossoms. They seem so suited to their environment that one barely notices them. They bloom low to the ground, from a pod that is brown and rough like the bark of the trees upon which they perch. Their roots barely penetrate the earth, as if to say, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll take care of myself.” If their roots are buried in rich soil, the plant will die. These flowers need only a very little bit of nutrients and water, and prefer not to be coddled or crowded.

They are like a secret. If I point them out to guests, my excitement is often lost on them, because they don’t know how long I’ve waited to see these simple little petals. I have been not caring about orchids since I came here, and finally they’re peeping their unfussy, self-sufficient selves from their simple winter homes to wave in the breeze, see the sun, and mate.

Most orchids are epiphytes and grow on trees, many very high, some very low on the trunk. I wonder how many quiet little blossoms are in the canopy, unnoticed, needing little more than a bit of sun and a place to be.

This is something that has struck me about this “tropical rain forest.” It doesn’t fit that description at all. It’s very lush here, but during the dry season at least the flowers and plants are sensible, not capricious. There is green all around, but it’s not an imposing, wet, lushness that fills the air. We are at 1100 meters, and the air is cool, clean, fairly dry, and the part of the forest I find most beautiful is simply the quality of the light. Goats bleat and rooster crow, birds chirp, but few sound as exotic as they look. Soon Shiva will wake up and shake all the snakes and beetles and spiders from his shoulders, but now Parvati is still dancing to rouse him. The life of the forest has not come out yet in full force. The subtle orchid punctuates this period of relative calm.

Below: Dendrobium barbatulum