I am resting. My bulb, the vessel of my life force, sits in a cool (50-55°F), dark place. My keeper has likely stopped watering me entirely after my foliage yellowed and was removed. This period of dry, cool dormancy is not neglect; it is essential. It is my time to gather strength, to prepare for the immense effort of my spectacular bloom. Do not water me now. Let me sleep.
My keeper brings me into the warmth and light! They pot me in a container only slightly wider than my bulb, leaving my shoulders proud above the soil. The first drink of water is a revelation, waking my roots. They will water me sparingly at first, only when the soil is dry to the touch, increasing as my flower stalk and leaves emerge. I will direct all my energy into pushing up my stout, green stalk, eager to unfurl my magnificent blossoms for all to see.
Behold! I am in my full glory. My large, trumpet-shaped flowers open wide, a vibrant display that is my purpose. To sustain this effort, I crave bright, indirect light and consistent moisture. My keeper may turn my pot regularly so I do not lean too far towards the sun. After the flowers fade, they are wise to remove them, preventing me from wasting energy on seed production. This allows me to channel my power back into my bulb.
My show is not over. Now begins the critical work of rebuilding my strength. With my flowers gone, my long, strap-like leaves are my solar panels, soaking up the summer sun. My keeper continues to water me regularly and may feed me with a balanced liquid fertilizer every few weeks. If the weather permits, I enjoy a summer vacation outdoors in a spot with dappled sunlight, where the rain and fresh air invigorate me and my leaves grow thick and strong.
As the days grow shorter and the air cools, I sense the approach of my necessary rest. My keeper will stop fertilizing me this month. This is a signal for me to begin slowing down, to start preparing for the dormancy to come. I may still be outdoors, but the reduced light and cooler nights tell my internal clock that it is time to start winding down my metabolic processes.
My keeper has brought me inside, away from any risk of frost. They have drastically reduced, and then completely stopped, watering me. My leaves will yellow and wither as I deliberately draw the last of their energy back into my bulb for safekeeping. Once they are brown and dry, they can be gently removed. I am not dying; I am conserving. I am placed back in that cool, dark closet or basement, ready for my long, silent slumber.
I rest. In the quiet darkness, I am patiently waiting. Inside my papery shell, next year's flower bud is already formed, waiting for the signal to begin its journey. My keeper checks on me occasionally, ensuring I remain cool and dry. This full period of dormancy, typically 8-10 weeks, is the non-negotiable secret to my future success. Without this deep rest, I cannot muster the strength to perform again.
