Century Plant in Bluffton finally shows its age, like Jack and the beanstalk
When given what looked like a cactus, with thorns along the edges of its leaves and no larger than a soup bowl, I remembered the old saying: “Never say ‘thank you’ to someone when they graciously give you a plant lest it will die, but instead, just say, ‘I accept this with appreciation.’ ”
Being a person who purposely walks under a ladder to show I’m not superstitious, but not wanting to kill the plant from the git-go before it ever hit the soil, I gave my “appreciates,” saying I hoped my green thumb did its thing.
Not to worry though, having desert-like sandy soil on Tanner Hill, and the plant being a small Americana Agave, aka Century Plant, related to the aloe plant family and having habits of cacti, it adapted to its new stomping grounds without a hitch. Over the years, it grew to six feet in diameter and almost seven feet tall, with wide, thorny-edged, spiked leaves.
Being commonly called a Century Plant, there is the mistaken idea that it only blooms when it reaches the age of 100 years. Not true! As a matter of fact, the time of blooming depends entirely upon the vigor of the individual plant and the conditions under which it is grown.
In warmer climates, where the growth is rapid, flowers can appear in a few years, whereas, in colder climates the plant sometimes requires from 40 to 60 years to reach maturity. Judging by the size of the plant given to me, I’d say it was already 5 to 10 years old, from watching how slowly the babies, called “pups,” sprouting up around the parent plant grow. Therefore, the age of my Century Plant is probably 40 to 45 years old.
I say this from experience, because since transplanting one of these pups to the side yard some 15 years ago, where it is mostly shaded, its hardly grown a stitch.
A native of Mexico and Central America, the Century Plant is widely cultivated for ornamental purposes with some areas often using them as a fence. That, I can fully understand, with the leaves being thick, fleshy and spiny-toothed. In these leaves is the nourishment needed for the plant’s flowering.
A sort of rosette forms in the very center of the plant from which springs, at the time of flowering, a tall branched stem with erect greenish-yellow blossoms. When the plant has flowered, the leaves die down, but suckers are frequently produced from the base of the stem, which become new plants.
This plant, in Mexico, is grown as a regular farm crop. The sap, when fermented produces the national beverage, pulque, and distilled it forms a spirit called mescal. The leaves are used for fodder, rope, cord, bagging, and matting. The juice of the leaf lathers in water, like soap, and is much used in washing.
Having occupied the corner of a flower bed for so many years, growing slowly in size and staying green year-round, it was kind of taken for granted, although I did wonder if I’d ever see it bloom.
Then, lo and behold, come 5 a.m. Easter Sunday morning, April 12, of this year, when taking my pup, Sport, out, I glanced toward the plant in the light of the yard security light and see this giant asparagus-looking stalk, like an apparition, had sprouted up in the center of it.
Of course, being Easter Sunday morning, my first thought was, “It arose, just like Jesus!” I kid you not, that asparagus-looking stalk was NOT there when I took Sport out before bedtime the night before. Incredulous, I could hardly believe my eyes, that something could have grown that fast, overnight, now exceeding 10 to 12 feet tall.
It continued to grow by leaps and bounds, with me taking photos almost daily, documenting its growth. By May 15 it had started putting out little nubs along the top of the stalk with a hint of a greenish yellow growth peeking out. I was starting to feel like “Jack and the beanstalk.”
It kept putting out branches, beginning at the bottom level and ending up with 14 when they reached the tip-top of the stalk, and having clusters of light green-pink tipped buds. Gradually starting at the bottom level again, little yellow “frizzies” burst out of the tightly closed buds.
I hoped to get a grand finale photo of the entire 14 branched buds in full bloom, but it did not pan out that way. The stalk, because of its height and weight, fell to the ground July 3 at 1:15 p.m., much to my chagrin, leaving a vacant spot in my flower bed.
However, the sticky and sugary broken branches with opened flowers made all the bees and other small insects very happy.
Take heart if you have one of these Americana Agave Century Plants. You may get to see it bloom one day.
“God has perfect timing, never early, never late. It takes a little patience, and a whole lot of faith — but it’s worth the wait.”
Jean Tanner may be reached at jstmeema@hargray.com.
This story was originally published July 13, 2020 at 4:30 PM.