My good friend Nannette gave me this clivia three years ago. The clivia summers under our pear tree and winters in a cold, dimly lit corner of Matt's "office," a small, precarious, dangerous perch above the staircase where a paperwork avalanche-waiting-to-happen also resides. The clivia likes being pot-bound and dried out, and I like providing those conditions for it.
Round about mid-February, I haul the clivia off the perch - in a teetering sort of way - and into the warm, bright kitchen, where a good soaking ensues. I put the clivia on a chair so it can be one of the family, and it responds in kind by promptly (about three days later) shooting up a flower spike.
If it happens to be sunny late in the afternoon, the clivia becomes charged with volcanic energy and turns this marvelous molten color.
