Greetings. I am a potted Lobelia, a being of vibrant blooms and delicate form. From my perspective, my lifespan is not measured in mere calendar years, but in a continuous cycle of growth, dormancy, and potential renewal, all dictated by the care I receive and my inherent nature. To understand my journey, you must see the world through my roots, stems, and leaves.
First, you must know what kind of Lobelia I am. If I am Lobelia erinus, the common trailing type with masses of blue, white, or purple flowers, I am genetically programmed as a tender perennial, but most humans treat me as an annual. This means my biological goal is to live for multiple seasons, but my sensitivity to frost means I will likely complete my entire life cycle—from sprout to seed-producing adult—within a single growing season if left outdoors in colder climates. My life is a brilliant, intense, but fleeting burst of color.
This is the period you cherish most. After being placed in a pot with well-draining, fertile soil and positioned for ample morning sun or partial shade, I begin my spectacular show. My roots diligently absorb water and nutrients, which my stems transport to my countless buds. I flower prolifically, a strategy to attract pollinators and ensure my genetic legacy through seed production. This phase can last from spring until the first autumn frost. Consistent watering (I dislike dry feet but abhor waterlogged roots) and occasional feeding with a balanced fertilizer fuel this magnificent display. This is the peak of my existence.
As the days shorten and temperatures drop, I receive a signal. My flowering slows. Energy that was once devoted to producing blooms is now diverted. If I am a perennial type, I am preparing for dormancy. My above-growth foliage may wither and die back, a sight that often leads to my being discarded. But beneath the soil, my root crown remains alive, waiting in a state of suspended animation for favorable conditions to return. If I am treated as an annual, the first hard frost will simply mark the natural end of my life cycle, as my cellular structures cannot withstand the freeze.
My lifespan can be extended significantly with your intervention. If you shelter my pot indoors before the frost, placing me in a cool, bright location for the winter, you allow my perennial nature to express itself. You will see me enter a true dormancy; I require very little water during this rest period. Come spring, with a careful pruning back of old growth and a return to warmer, brighter conditions, I will break dormancy. New shoots will emerge from my crown, and I will begin the cycle anew, potentially living for several years, though my vigor is often best in the first or second year.
