Night Blooming Cereus

My night cereus bloomed again last night. It usually has 2 big bloom flushes throughout the summer and an occasional blossom in between. When I go outside I know it is open: it's fragrance floats on the warm night air, beckoning pollinators that will never appear. The exquisite detail of the stamens and pistil are set off by the lavish surround of white petals and salmon sepals. The flower makes up for the other short comings of the plant. It is wildly unweildy and I usually tie mine up to an old fence to keep it from flopping over. It grows every which way, and the weight of the foliage quickly outstrips the weight of the pot. (They bloom best when they are pot bound). If the flowers open near the ground, they are a magnet for slugs and that is a sickening sight.
I got my start of the night cereus from my plant-loving grandmother who likely got it over the years she lived in Florida. That was nearly 40 years ago but I still remember Mama with joy each time that ugly plant blooms. She would call up her friends to come over and view the flowers on the night they opened, and she would pick the blooms and put them in a glass of water in the refrigerator to try to save them. It never really worked.
By the morning the flowers have become slimy mush, and no one would ever guess their former glory.
I have prevailed upon the good graces of many of my friends to come celebrate the opening of my night cereus and spend a few hours appreciating friendship and nature.
It may have been Faulkner who related a story about the street car driver in New Orleans stopping the car and all the riders went up the hill to see a night cereus in bloom. If you have never seen one, let me know and I'll invite you over when mine blooms again.