How Terrariums Made Orchid Ownership, Cultivation, and Export Possible

Small phalaenopsis orchid in a terrarium jar (Pexels, Creative Commons license)

Orchids love humidity. Whether it’s a cloud forest, cool air from evaporating snow, or a soupy tropical breeze, high humidity is one of the most basic requirements for growing happy orchids. 

I take for granted the ability to send and receive plants to and from all over the world without them dying (assuming proper packaging and care, of course). But that wasn’t always the case. Before planes, plants would have to survive months-long trips in sub-par conditions, such as in a dank, crowded cargo hold where they couldn’t be watered. Even above deck, conditions weren’t rough—direct sun, high winds, hard rains, etc. Only the hardiest plants survived the journey.

A “Wardian case” in Amsterdam’s Hortus Botanicus (photo via Academic Accelerator, licensed under Creative Commons)

The seeds for the invention of the terrarium were planted (the plant puns never stop!) in 1829 when a London doctor and plant collector, Nathanial Ward, realized his beloved ferns were suffering the effects of pollution from the Industrial Revolution. He brought some of his collection inside, and he put some moth cocoons he’d found in his yard in jars. While monitoring a pupating cocoon, Ward noticed fern spores growing in one of the jars. He began to experiment with growing plants in jars and bottles, seeing what happened when he kept the lid on tight (the plant eventually died) and tinkering with other growing conditions. Eventually, he enlisted a carpenter friend to help him create the “Wardian case,” now known as the terrarium. In 1842, he quite literally wrote the book on terrariums. 

Use of the case dramatically boosted the odds of plants surviving long journeys. According to Gardens Illustrated, London nursey owner and Ward’s plant supplier said that before he started using the Wardian case, only 1 in 20 plants he collected would survive a trip. If he used the case, 19 of 20 would survive. The first director of Kew Gardens just outside of London (one of my favorite places in the world) started using Wardian cases to import plants in 1841. 

My current terrarium (you can see a tiny lightning bolt jewel orchid in the top right)

On the flip side, terrariums also made botanical colonialism and economic botany possible. When European botanists traveled to the Americas, Asia, and Africa, they took plants for scientific/medical study, for cooking, and for aesthetics. This practice has many implications, and institutions such as Kew Gardens acknowledge and seek to redress it. Suffice it to say, we wouldn’t be able to buy plants native to other continents easily or affordably without them. 

As much as terrariums have changed plant importation and cultivation, they can be quite tricky. Kew’s director apparently also referred to the case as “Ward’s Coffin.” Since I’m on my fourth go with a terrarium, I can empathize. Something with its own hyper-local, hyper-specific eco-system can present a unique learning curve. I personally struggle to prevent terrariums from becoming too wet. 

Miniature orchid garden in a plate-glass terrarium in Estepona, Spain (photo credit: Emilio, Flickr. Licensed under Creative Commons)

Terrarium sizes vary a ton, just like pot sizes do. And as with pots, the size of a terrarium affects how much and how often it needs watering, how quickly it dries, and how much and how often it needs airing out. They’re a great way to provide humidity to plants that need it, including orchids. My “problem” is that most of my orchids are too big for terrariums, but perhaps I need some smaller orchids!

Regardless, the plants luxuriating in my cabinet greenhouse owe Ward a debt, as do my orchids, which wouldn’t have made their way to me without the case he created.