From Wikipedia
Salpiglossis sinuata, Painted Tongue, Scalloped Tube Tongue, or Velvet Trumpet Flower, is a flowering plant in the family Solanaceae, native to southern Chile. It is as annual, or short lived perennial herbaceous plant growing to 60 centimeters tall, the leaves are 4 - 10 cm long, elliptic to lanceolate, with a wavy, lobed, or toothed margin.
The flowers have a five-lobed funnel-shaped corolla, up to 7 cm (2.5 in) long and 5.5 cm (2 in) diameter, each lobe with a notched apex, velvety in texture, either violet or orange, and have contrasting darker stripes along each petal.
They're gorgeous.
I noticed them at the nursery a few weeks ago. There were two, coyly peeking their flowered heads out from behind the counter at me while a nursery employee totalled up the herbs I was buying. As I handed the woman my debit card I pointed at them. "What kind of flowers are those?"
She turned briefly, then pulled her attention back to the register. "Salpiglossis," she said offhandedly. "I call 'em slap pigs."
I took a moment to process that. "They're beautiful. Are they an annual?"
"Yeah," she answered. "I ordered a hundred of them, and sold 98 to one customer." She paused. "Landscaper." She started fishing around in the drawer beside her, the conversation apparently over.
"Well can I buy those two?"
"Nope," she said, with her back to me. "Some one else paid for 'em this morning. Picking 'em up tonight."
"Oh," I sighed, slightly crestfallen." "Oh, well thank you anyway." I gathered my herbs, and tried to wash away my disappointment with the fragrance of lemonbalm and lavender. I started towards the parking lot.
After a few steps the woman called after me. "I've got some more coming next week," she hollered. "You could try back."
I turned with a smile. "I will," I said, hope rising. "Definitely. Thank you!"
I went back the next Thursday, and left with two packs of half priced, bedraggled marigolds and assurances that the truck would be coming in the following morning, salpiglossis amongst its contents.
I arrived at 8:30, and pulled into a parking lot dominated by a large box truck, nursery employees hopping in and out of it, retreaving paper wrapped pots and spreading them throughout the nursery. I watched the activity from my car, sharply eyeing each employees burden, looking for the slap pigs' lovely blossoms.
Finally the truck was empty. The hatch was closed, and the driver strapped himself behind the wheel before driving away. I left my car and walked purposefully into the nursery, expecting to see them among the annuals that made up a front and center display. But there were none to be found as I searched the petunias and geraniums, and I reached out to grab a young man's arm as he walked by.
"Excuse me," I said, a little bit of panic starting to bubble in my abdomen. "Did you get any slap pigs in this morning?"
"Yeah," he answered. "Around back." He gestured vaguely and I released him, striding in the direction he'd indicated. I came around a corner and there they were, twenty of the lovely little dears, multicolored and brilliant. The woman I'd spoken with the week before was there, hovering over them possessively.
"These are all spoken for," she said, forestalling the question she could sense coming. "The wholesaler sent all he had; it was just these twenty, and I've got a waiting list." I must have looked really disappointed, because after gazing at me a few moments while I fought down this sick, horrible feeling that was spreading through my stomach, her face softened. "How many did you want," she asked finally.
""Two," I said wistfully. I really wanted five or six, but I knew I was being offered an opportunity. I wasn't going to spoil it by being greedy.
"Oh go on then," she said, turning away and dismissing me once again. "Take 'em."
I thanked her excitedly, which she acknowledged with a wave of her hand. I picked the two nearest me, and happily made my way to the register.
I put them into 3 gallon smart pots, and planted them with a mix of nutrient rich soil and light planting mix. I fed them with worm casting tea, and have been murmuring loving sentiments every time I walk by them. One's here to greet me at home, the other sits in the greenhouse at work, brightening up the greens and veggies around it.
They'll stop flowering when it gets a little colder, but I think they'll make it through the winter, and bloom again in spring. I'll enjoy them in the meantime.
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