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MARANTAS, CTENANTHES, AND CALATHEAS

THE SUN HITS at rakish angles in autumn, training the spotlight on backstage plants that suddenly shine in the glimmerglow. There’s that moment in the early morning when I pad downstairs to find the light hitting the recesses of a dark corner where sunbeams rarely strike. For that one occasion (if I had awoken half an hour later, I would have missed it), Ctenanthe oppenheimiana ‘Tricolor’ is ignited in a conflagration of smoldering shades. I navigate the gnaw-hole-pierced electric-blue feathered birds, octopus-legged mice, and stuffed veterinarian-effigies in my path. I sidestep the furry ambush (“I don’t suppose that tail swishing behind the staghorn fern belongs to you, Einstein?”) en route to the arrow-shaped leaves on fire by a stray sunbeam at the far end of my attached, generally poorly lit greenhouse. Because it rarely blossoms in a home environment, the ctenanthe might be overlooked most of the time. But this morning, it’s a stunner.

The kitten’s hobby is shredding. He takes out orchids at regular intervals and has such a vendetta against the lavender that the hapless plant has been surrendered as sacrificial. The cissus is spaghetti. If his wrath was unleashed on the members of the genus Marantaceae in residence, there would be no justification for letting those plants linger. A marred leaf on a maranta is enough to blemish the overall picture. And most take their time sending up a replacement crop of foliage. Mercifully, Einstein is not the least bit interested in marantas. Yet.

Einstein might not agree (thankfully), but there’s something truly enthralling about this group of plants. They run the gamut from incredibly easy (I’m thinking of the prayer plant, Maranta leuconeura var. kerchoviana, with its little rabbit-track markings running down the center of oval leaves, which is featured at supermarkets far and wide) to devilishly difficult (Calathea makoyana, the humidity-demanding peacock plant, comes to mind). The middle ground is populated by plenty of truly lovely, house-worthy individuals that add to the tapestry of color in a home.

Marantas, ctenanthes, and calatheas are the best-dressed plants around. Compared to some of the other foliage standbys, like dracaenas and aglaonemas, marantas have an unparalleled sophistication. Interior designers wouldn’t hesitate to upholster a sofa with the patterns on their leaves. Most members of this family are native to tropical America; many hail from Brazil and thereabouts. Their coloration reflects that heritage.

Their native environments explain why some members of this group are tricky in our humidity-deprived, seriously not-tropical homes. Even with my menagerie of houseplants increasing the overall humidity in their close proximity, calatheas are a challenge. I consider Calathea roseapicta, C. musaica, and C. undulata to be terrarium fare only, although you can occasionally find them in garden centers (with no warning signage about their difficulty for houseplant applications). Marantas of all stripes are easier, however. And ctenanthes are somewhere in the middle. Although identification sometimes feels like splitting hairs and is classified on the basis of flower traits, I can usually tell the difference from the foliage. Marantas are all slightly different spins on the same theme of broad, paper-thin leaves with jagged, lightning bolt–like markings on their surface. They generally remain less than a foot in height. Occasionally, they have little wispy flowering spires that don’t amount to much and could be accused of distracting. Ctenanthes are taller, blossom infrequently, and bear their beautiful leaves on branching stems. And those little snobs, the difficult-to-grow calatheas, are hauntingly otherworldly, with designer-quality patterns on their thick, glossy leaves that initiate from the ground. They rarely bloom.

If my home was very dry, I would be limited to (yawn) Maranta leuconeura var. kerchoviana. But thanks to all the resident plants raising the humidity levels, I can support everything but fussy calatheas. As for cultivation, I go for a light, fluffy growing medium with plenty of leaf mold included. I’ve noticed that ctenanthes are heavy drinkers. Most of my early morning visits are followed immediately by a return with the watering can. Let a ctenanthe dry out, and in no time it will retaliate with shriveled, browning leaves. Fortunately, the whole shebang never goes sour all at once. Instead, ctenanthes signal their displeasure with a few token pleas for help in the form of leaf-edge browning.

Although it’s true that mealy bugs pester lots of plants, I find that they are drawn to marantas with almost the same sadistic vehemence as bougainvilleas. It takes a while for mealy bugs to undermine a plant, so keep a vigilant eye out for these varmints and take action quickly (while simultaneously segregating the plant). They are worth the trouble.

Maranta, Ctenanthe, and Calathea

• ALSO CALLED: never-never plant (Ctenanthe), peacock plant (Calathea), prayer plant (Maranta), ten commandments (Maranta)