While I was trying to take a few photos of these flowers my husband was there, cheering me up. He told me: These would be some high-level photos. Of course, we were joking because I told him that there was no way to immortalize these little red-orange bells in a pretty way.
At least I can't do it.
So I just took my cell phone, but it wasn't all that easy. Nothing of that. I almost had to get on a chair to get to this height where the flowers of this plant were. My plants got high! 😂
But I am sure those who have the same plant, Kalanchoe - Lucky Bells know what I am talking about. Very tall stems with a cluster of bells or little trumpet-shaped flowers at the end of each. They look a bit grotesque.
There are leaves, of course, but the clusters of the flowers are decorating the part of the stem that is already leafless.
Just out of curiosity, I measured the height of the tallest stem. Can you guess? Don't be shy and think about a number, before you continue to read.
Do you have it? Ok, so here it comes.
The tallest stem is eighty-two centimetres tall.
What is amazing is that these plants grow from small baby plants, like the one I have in the palm of my hand. They grow on the edges of the leaves, and when they are strong enough, they fall to the ground.
If there is soil where these baby plants fall, then the plant will propagate. That is an easy way to have a descendant.
Here you can see a few tiny, future plants, growing on the edges of the leaves.
Kalanchoe Lucky Bells is pretty without flowers too. The clusters of flowers you have seen here grow from two big plants. But I also have another two, smaller plants - children of the big ones.
They still don't bloom this year but they are coming to this post to show the patterns and the shape of the leaves.
An important task is waiting now for me... I think I should write a letter to this plant now... and you will see why.
...
Dear Lucky Bells - I hope you are lucky enough to survive this post and stay at the height of your beauty. More than a month ago I brought to Hive one blooming plant, Miss Schlumbergera, but after that, she decided to leave me. Two years of blooming before Christmas and now, I am left with one tiny, lonely little stem.
Your name should save you from my bad influence.
Yours truly,
Mipiano
