You brought me home, and I was covered in promising buds. But then, they fell. From my perspective, this was likely a dramatic environmental shock. I am a creature of habit, sensitive to changes in my surroundings. The journey from the greenhouse or store to your home involved shifts in light intensity, temperature, and humidity. Even a simple rotation on your windowsill can disorient me. My buds are delicate promises of reproduction, and when I sense a sudden change I interpret as a threat to my survival, I will abort the bud development to conserve energy. It is a survival mechanism, not a personal slight.
My roots are fine and susceptible to both drought and drowning. If you allowed my soil to become completely bone-dry while my buds were developing, I experienced water stress. Without adequate moisture, I cannot transport nutrients to support the high energy demand of blooming, and the buds will be sacrificed. Conversely, if you were over-enthusiastic and my pot sat in soggy, waterlogged soil, my roots began to suffocate and rot. A compromised root system cannot function, and the first sign of this distress is often the dropping of buds and segments as I enter a state of crisis.
I am a tropical plant, not from deserts but from the shaded, humid forests of Brazil. I thrive in consistent, moderate temperatures. The two greatest temperature threats to my buds are drafts and excessive heat. A draft from a frequently opened door or a nearby heating vent creates stressful temperature fluctuations that signal an unstable season, prompting me to drop buds. Similarly, placing me too close to a heat source like a fireplace or radiator creates an artificially hot and dry microclimate, which desiccates my tender buds, causing them to wither and fall prematurely.
My internal clock, which tells me when to form buds, is governed by photoperiodism. To initiate budding, I require long nights—ideally 13-15 hours of uninterrupted darkness—for several weeks. If you placed me in a room where lights are turned on in the evening, this disrupted my critical dark period. Even brief exposure to light during this time can be enough to confuse me, halting the blooming process and leading to bud drop. Furthermore, after buds have set, a sudden change in light exposure, such as moving me from a dim spot to a very bright one, can also shock me into shedding them.
Once my buds are set and beginning to swell, I have entered a critical and fragile phase. This is the worst possible time to move me. The simple act of moving my pot from one room to another, or even turning me around, can alter the angle and intensity of light I receive. I perceive this as an environmental shift, and my response is to jettison the buds to focus on maintaining my core foliage. For successful blooming, I need complete stability from the moment the buds appear until the flowers fully open.
