An agave planted in SF’s Hayes Valley neighborhood has entered the early “death blooming” stages, producing a massive asparagus-looking central structure.
An agave plant in Oakland garnered local (and national) attention in May for its 27-foot-tall center growth. Entering its last stage of life, the Agave americana plant, which is also commonly referred to as the century plant or American aloe plant, began sprouting its signature “death bloom” structure that will take some ten to fifteen years to flower and subsequently blossom; once the plant has flowered, the plant will die.
Crowds continue to flock to the East Bay plant, captivated by its towering height and rarity. (As one of its common names suggests, Agave americana specimens regularly exceed 100 years of age, only blossoming toward the tail end of their life.) In San Francisco, it appears we have our own example of this along a Hayes Valley sidewalk.
A recent stroll in the increasingly pedestrian-forward neighborhood put us squarely in the eyepath of one of these towering giants; San Francisco passersby at Hayes and Webster streets can see one of these rare blossoming, curbside.
The plant, which also sports the towering asparagus-like structure that the Oakland agave also sports, is a giant amongst the other, much smaller plants surrounding it. (Fun fact: Agave americana belongs to the family Asparagaceae … that houses the common garden asparagus, Asparagus officinalis, we’re all accustomed to eating.)
Based on the agave’s size, the plant is well over 30 years old. Some of its pencas, a.k.a. Leaves, are trimmed, and its stem seems firmly intact. Although the plant has outgrown its original confines, the fact that it’s managed to reach maturity and produce a flowering body means it’s thriving to some degree.
Given that the flowering bodies of Agave americana generally stay put for ten to fifteen years, so, unlike Cal Academy’s corpse flower blooms, there’s no rush to see it before the plant enters a realm outside this mortal coil.
Feature image: All images courtesy of Matthew Charnock
