From my perspective, as a young Rohdea japonica, flowering is simply not my current priority. My primary biological imperative is to establish a strong root system and store enough energy in my rhizomes to ensure my long-term survival. The process of creating a flower spike (which is actually an inflorescence called a spadix) and subsequent berries requires a massive investment of energy. I will not even consider diverting resources to this reproductive effort until I am sufficiently established, which can take several years. If you acquired me as a small division from a larger plant, I am essentially starting over and need time to rebuild my strength before I can even think about blooming.
While I am renowned for my tolerance of deep shade, this does not mean I thrive in it, especially when it comes to flowering. My leaves can persist in very low light, but to generate the surplus energy required for a bloom, I need access to more photons. If I am sitting in a dark corner, I am in survival mode, conducting just enough photosynthesis to maintain my existing foliage. Please understand that "low light" for foliage survival is different from "sufficient light" for flowering. I need bright, indirect light or dappled shade to photosynthesize efficiently and produce the sugars that will eventually fuel my flowers.
The soil I am growing in provides my entire world of nutrients. An imbalance here directly affects my physiological decisions. If I am given a fertilizer too high in nitrogen, your focus on promoting lush green leaves aligns with my response: I will channel all my energy into vegetative growth at the expense of reproduction (flowering). I require a more balanced or even slightly phosphorus-heavy fertilizer to encourage the bloom cycle. Conversely, if I am planted in old, depleted soil that lacks essential nutrients, I simply won't have the basic building blocks to create a flower spike. I am starving and cannot undertake such a demanding task.
My roots are my connection to the world and their condition dictates my health. There are two common extremes. First, if I am badly pot-bound, my roots are a tangled, congested mass. This causes me immense stress, restricts water and nutrient uptake, and leaves me with no room or resources to support blooming. My entire being is focused on the root crisis. The opposite problem is being in a pot that is vastly too large. In this case, my energy is directed entirely into expanding my root system to colonize the entire volume of soil, which, again, delays any energy allocation to flowers until that job is done.
I am a creature of habit and consistency. I prefer stable, moderate conditions. A recent repotting was a significant physical disturbance, damaging my fine root hairs and forcing me to expend energy on repair rather than flowering. Similarly, if I experienced a period of drought where my leaves wilted, or a bout of root rot from overwatering, I have been weakened. Drafts from vents, extreme temperature swings, or a recent move to a new location are all stressors that trigger a survival response in me. Flowering is a luxury of the healthy and stable; I must first recover fully before I can attempt it.
