There’s something to be said for a plant that blooms all winter.

Such as “more.”

Which is why I have five on the sill of my office windows.

I grew up calling them parlor maples, although according to one reference online, that’s considered a mighty old-fashioned term.

Probably because parlors aren’t so common anymore.

Better known today as flowering maples, Abutilon varieties are a delight to behold any time of the year.

The genus of about 150 species is part of the mallow family, which explains the similarity in flowers. The five-petaled blossoms are usually pastel, from buttery yellow to peach to candy pink. In the past couple of years, I’ve purchased one that flowers in a rich rust-red shade and another just last year that was a combination of colors: a blushing apricot hue touched with yellow and white.

A maple, however, Abutilon is not. That part of the common name comes from the maple-shaped leaves. It is, perhaps, one of the reasons I love parlor maples. Having that look all year long is comforting.

Plus there are all those flowers.

I’ve pretty much given up wondering why they flower the way they do. The ones in my office seem to have their own peculiar schedule. Three blossom in sync with each other: the candy pink, the buttery yellow and the rust-red.

Those three have been in bloom since last fall, the buds tapering off for a week or two and then coming back into bloom for a few more, then tapering and so on.

The other two are a bit puzzling. One is the blushing apricot I got last summer with the warning that it was a slower grower than most abutilons. It ended up getting some type of bug on it from my papyrus, which meant I had to cut it back to the soil. And it has, indeed, grown back very slowly. I am still awaiting its blossoms.

The last one has variegated leaves that are mottled with yellow. In my research on abutilons, I discovered that this is not some sort of genetic mutation; instead, it is a virus that took scientists a long while to understand.

According to a paper from the biology department at New Jersey’s Union County College, Abutilon Mosaic Virus is transmitted through the seeds or from grafting infected plants to noninfected ones. There’s also a whitefly in Brazil – just Brazil – that can transmit it.

Go figure.

Anyway, the “infected” plants have been around since 1868, but it has been proven that the variegated plant can’t infect any other abutilon even if they live side by side.

For some reason, the variegated one is proving to be a stubborn bloomer. I can’t remember the last time it blossomed. The leaves are pretty, although in the lower light of winter, the mottling has become less obvious.

Abutilons as houseplants can be a little messy, what with the flowers coming and going and the leaves doing the same. Watering is straightforward; just let the soil dry out a bit between times.

You must be ruthless in pruning or the plant will become quite leggy and sparse-looking. I prune my plants several times a year, even if I see blossoms coming. It is better to cut it back because it never takes long for the blossoms to return. I usually trim in the spring, summer and fall, pruning down next to where new leaves are forming, if possible. In winter, it depends on how each is doing before I cut anything back.

All of my plants came from local greenhouses in the spring. While mine became houseplants, abutilons can work in the garden as an annual as long as they get mostly shade in the afternoon.

If you want to grow from seed, check out Veseys seed catalog (1-800-363-7333), which sells a Giant Mix, and Thompson & Morgan (1-800-274-7333), which offers two varieties: Bella Mixed, a dwarf, and Large Flowered Mix, not a dwarf.

A lemon grows in Bangor

In the continuing saga of my expectant dwarf lemon, which I wrote about last February, it looks like the first lemon is ready to be picked. At least, it is more yellow green than green green, which is my likely signal that it is almost time to harvest my lone lemon.

It has been a long, long – did I say long – wait.

Who knew it could take more than a year for a glass of really fresh lemonade to develop?

Meanwhile, the tree blossomed a couple more times last summer and what should arrive but another lemon.

That one may be ready to pick by Christmas.

I’d better start figuring out what recipe I want to use.

It’s a dog’s day

Finally, an update on my dog, Daisy. As you may know, she was diagnosed a year ago with lymphoma and went into remission on chemotherapy, finishing treatments in August. Last October I wrote a story on canine lymphoma, detailing Daisy’s case.

The day after the story ran, the veterinarian felt an enlarged node in Daisy’s neck. And on Nov. 1, Daisy started chemo again when it was confirmed the lymphoma was back.

Just last week, we finished treatments. Daisy is continuing to do well, still without any side effects.

And I can’t really complain about winter even though I would like to. Daisy, you see, adores the snow. She rolls and kicks her feet like a pup, runs through it like a dolphin leaps through the waves and just stands eating it like she’s surrounded by a backyard smorgasbord.

Just another day in paradise.

jpineo@bangordailynews.net