My friends, I have something shocking to tell you. My name is Grumpy and I hate fresh tomatoes.

I cannot tell you how hard this secret has made my life. Every day I live a lie. Telling people you hate fresh tomatoes is like saying you hate giggling babies or that you loathe the prospect of world peace.

So you lie. You conceal. You pretend. You dissemble. You squirm. When people pluck a ripe cherry tomato from the vine, pop it into their mouth, and suggest you do the same, you squeal with false delight and flee like the French in WWII. When people place a dish of freshly sliced tomatoes in front of you at the dinner table, you exclaim, "Golly, those are simply to beautiful to eat!" All the while, you're thinking, "Barf! Vomit! Hurl! Get me outta here!"

Grumpy doesn't hate all tomatoes. Only uncooked ones. He loves tomatoes on pizza. He loves tomatoes in pasta sauce. He even made the most delicious pasta sauce he's ever tasted from 'Roma' tomatoes he grew in his own garden. But he doesn't like them raw. He also recoils from the smell of fresh tomato juice like John Edwards recoils from decency. And he asks you to understand.

No one taught Grumpy to dislike fresh tomatoes. It wasn't a choice. Grumpy was born that way. Because of this, he suffered derision, humiliation, and discrimination from an intolerant society that won't accept someone who's "different." Just yesterday, I was served a cheeseburger at the Atlanta airport that came with a tomato slice on it even though I specified, "No tomato." I know what the restaurant staff was thinking. "We don't want your kind in here."

Why? Am I so unlike you? If you prick me, do I not bleed? If you serve me a Michelob Ultra, do I not look insulted and pour it over your head? Yes! Yes, I do!

A Little help from My Friends

Hating fresh tomatoes is so lonely. You want to shout to the world, "This is who I am!", but you dare not. So you act like one of them. When they serve you a fresh tomato, you pretend to eat it, wait for them to momentarily glance away, and then quick-as-lightning squirrel it away inside your napkin, shove it in your pocket, and say, "Yum!" Then you desperately grab another napkin in case they offer you one more.

Gardens at P. Allen Smith's Moss Mountain Farm in Arkansas

Until last week, I thought I was the only fresh tomato hater in the world. Then I attended the Garden2Blog event at P. Allen Smith's place in Arkansas, where garden bloggers from all over the country convene to share ideas and post embarrassing photos of each other on Facebook. We were having salads at lunch, when I spotted fellow blogger Christopher Tidrick, who writes From the Soil, do something extraordinary. He carefully extracted all of the fresh tomatoes from the greens, and pushed them off to the side of his plate.

OMG!!!!!!! Another fresh tomato hater! Grumpy is not alone!

I wept uncontrollably. At last, at last, somebody understands.  

"You don't like fresh tomatoes?" I blubbered incredulously.

"No, I never have," he responded.

Then an even bigger miracle than world peace happened. "I don't like them either," chimed in blogger Kylee Baumle, who writes Our Little Acre. OMG!!! The sea had parted. It was the beginning of a movement! Read Chris' and Kylee's fresh mater-hating confessions on their blogs this week. If you're not sobbing by the end, you are a stranger to compassion and probably an evil reptile creature from V. (Well, evil except for Lisa, Anna's daughter. She was nice and really hot.)

I love Lisa. She makes me want to shed my skin.

We're Here, We're Weird, and We Count!

Chris, Kylee, and I know we're not the only fresh mater haters out there. There are millions of us in hiding, but most people don't know it. We could be your neighbor. We could be your pastor. We could be your Army buddy. We could be your high school teacher. We could be your pool boy. We could be the girl who does your nails. We could be the doctor who checks your prostate.

  Chris                                Kylee

It's time for us to come out from the cupboard. Fresh mater haters demand our right to be treated as equals in society. Join Chris, Kylee, and Grumpy as we proudly proclaim to the whole world, "We're here, we're weird, and we count!"

Oh, and I hate fresh cucumbers too.

My boy, Brian, 18, (Merit scholar and future theoretical physicist who will one day save the planet from the Borg), never thought highly of growing plants. Whenever I tried to elicit from him the slightest interest in any aspect of gardening, he'd roll his eyes and give me a look that said, "You are so totally lame. Weren't you the Dad on Leave It to Beaver?"

Then, in a deliciously ironic turn of events, he suddenly became very interested. His very pretty girlfriend gave him some seeds and ordered him to grow them. Fortunately for Brian, they were basil seeds.

Of all the herbs he could be asked to grow, basil is the easiest. All at once, my supercool son became as totally lame as me.

Basil Out the Wazoo

Native to tropical and subtropical Asia, basil (Ocimum basilicum) is an annual that loves warmth and thrives in the hot, humid weather of the South. Its shiny green leaves possess a distinctive clove-like fragrance and spicy-sweet flavor that make them indispensable in the kitchen. The flavors of basil and tomatoes are a match made in heaven, so you might as well grow them together. Basil is simple to start from seed, but most garden centers sell transplants as well.

Now there isn't just one kind of basil. The most common kind, 'Sweet Genovese,' is the one Grumpy likes best. It grows 2-3 feet tall with large, wide leaves boasting the perfect flavor for use in pasta and pesto. 'Siam Queen' grows 2 feet tall and offers a spicy, licorice flavor that's great in Thai and Vietnamese dishes. This year, I'm growing Greek columnar basil from Bonnie Plants. It combines small, spicy leaves with a dense, upright growth habit. You can also grow cinnamon basil, lemon basil, lime basil, and purple-leafed basil. For more info on them, read "Flavor Your Summer with Basil" by Grumpy's colleague, Gene Bussell.

Basil Basics

Basil demands just three things to grow well, all of which are easy to supply -- full sun; warm soil and air; and moist, well drained soil. Start with good soil containing organic matter and you won't have to fertilize more than two or three times in a season with an organic liquid fertilizer. Feed it more than that and you'll dilute the flavor. Brian used Herb & Vegetable Plant Food 8-4-4 from Bonnie. It's made from oilseed extract.

Last year, Brian started his basil seeds in a pot in the window in February. That was too early, but his girlfriend made him. You understand. As Locutus of Borg famously stated, "resistance is futile."

Locutus of Borg, Galactic Basil Grower

A too-early start made for this-is-taking-forever germination. Eventually, two tiny seedlings appeared. Brian would dutifully check their progress each day, using measuring tools developed for nanotechnology, to prove they were actually growing. Naturally, as his Dad, I encouraged him all the way with such classic expressions of affirmation as, "How incredibly puny!" and "Your efforts are quite pathetic." This is why I'm his hero.

Brian's basil in in May. Enough for a really, really teeny pizza.

The Sweet Smell of Success

Things changed as soon as the unbearably hot, humid summer weather we all cherish in Alabama set in. His tropical basils grew like weeds. Brian repotted them several times and they grew into small shrubs we put out on our deck. We picked leaves several times a week for cooking and the basils never missed them. In fact, we were harvesting fresh basil all the way to frost. Regular harvesting is the key to making basil plants last that long, because it spurs new growth. You must also pinch off all the flowers, because once basil goes to seed, it's no good anymore.

Brian's basil in July. This is getting out of hand!

Storing Basil

As a tropical annual, basil dies with the first frost. So say you have a lot of basil plants, a frost is coming, and you just can't bear to part with all that flavor. What can do you do?

Brian and I tried drying basil leaves between two paper towels weighed down by a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica. This technique proved as useful as the Encyclopedia Britannica itself. The dried basil lost its flavor. A much better way to store basil over the winter is to make pesto ice cubes. Read "Abundant Basil" for easy instructions.

Cooking with Basil

There is no better way to get young people interested in gardening than to show them how plants can be used in cooking. That's what happened with Brian. I wanted to smoke some lamb chops on the grill using grape wood chips, so I asked him to come up with a suitable marinade. He quickly responded with one made from olive oil, basil, rosemary, oregano, garlic, pepper, and a little salt. He placed each chop in a ziplock bag, added the marinade, and placed it in the refrigerator for 4-5 hours before grilling.Delicious!

Want some other totally excellent basil-flavored dishes? Try these:

• Jalapeno-Basil Pork Chops
• Lemon Basil Chicken Salad
• Fresh Tomato-Mushroom-Basil Pasta

You're welcome.

Faithful readers, just a short post today on a matter of monumental importance to all of humankind.

What is Grumpy's favorite all-time movie?

Just kidding. From all the desperate emails I have been getting, it seems a lot of you want to know if it's still OK to transplant shrubs. Many people ask about transplanting boxwoods, but others want to know about moving azaleas, gardenia, loropetalums, crepe myrtles, and other shrubs. The answer to all of these questions is pretty much the same.

The best time to move boxwood or any of these plants is in cool weather when they are dormant. Once the weather warms and they start growing, transplanting them will usually result in some degree of transplanting shock. If it's mild shock, they'll recover. If it's severe, they'll croak.

You would probably prefer the former result. So here are some guidelines.

1. Once temps reach the 80's, your chances of moving an establish shrub without killing it plummet. So ask yourself, "Do you feel lucky?" Is the shrub worth enough that you're willing to wait until fall?

2. If you do decide to transplant, you must get a big root ball and disturb the roots as little as possible. Water the plant the night before so that the roots will be moist and the root ball will hold together.

3. Dig the hole for the new location before you dig out the plant, so you can get it in the ground ASAP.

4. Whatever you do, DON'T BREAK UP THE ROOTBALL or your plant is a sure goner. Get as many hands as you need to move the plant gently. If you are moving it some distance, place the root ball on  a tarp and slide it over the ground.

5. Plant it in its new spot so that the top half-inch of the root ball is above the soil surface. Fill in with soil, soak the root ball, and then cover the top with an inch or two of mulch.

6. If the plant is now in full sun, trying using a tarp or something like it to shade it during the afternoon until it adjusts.

7. KEEP THE PLANT WELL WATERED.

8. DO NOT FERTILIZE AT THIS TIME. This just puts additional stress on the plant. Wait until next spring when the plant starts actively growing.

9. Good luck. You'll need it.

Grumpy's Favorite Movie

Could it be any other? Grumpy takes no prisoners. Neither did General George Patton. He's my kind of guy.

Chinese privet in bloom.

Grumpy recently received a sub-space message from a person claiming to be "Mr. Spock" of the USS Enterprise. Spock takes exception to a previous post called "Five Awful Plants for the Front of Your House," which characterized privet as a noxious weed.

"My hedge in East Hampton doesn't look anything like that," claims Spock. "I'm constantly receiving compliments on how beautiful it looks. Same goes for my home in Martha's Vineyard. The hedge there is 12 feet tall and tighter than stone. My privet and I are very insulted by your comments and I would suggest you start drafting a sincere apology." 

Now here's the thing. Why wasn't I told that Spock had a place in the Hamptons? I thought he was still hanging out on Talos IV. Second, my feelings regarding privet have not changed.

I hate privet. I loathe privet. I cast a pox upon privet. And I will continue to feel this way no matter how many times Spock collapses me with his neck pinch.

Privet-less Space: the Final Frontier

Privet (aka ligustrum) doesn't belong here. It's native to Japan, China, and Europe. While some of the large-leafed species, such as glossy privet (Ligustrum lucidum) can be grown as small, multi-trunked trees, the small-leafed species were brought to this country for one purpose -- to shear into formal hedges, like the ones at Spock's Long Island home. 

That's peachy-keen if you live on a big estate and keep a gardening staff of 12 Ferengis to maintain a tidy privet hedge. My first house had a back yard enclosed by hedges of California privet (L. ovalifolium). The privet grew so fast it would blur a photo. I had to shear the damn stuff at least 4 times a year, creating mountains of clippings to haul away. Poison ivy, honeysuckle, and other weeds loved growing in it. I wanted to call in an air strike of Agent Orange.

Ferengi gardeners discuss payment for pruning services.  

 What I Hate About Privet

1. The flowers. Although they are pretty, privet flowers have two major drawbacks. The first is a cloyingly sweet smell that many people find somewhat sickening. The second is that they produce a mother lode of pollen. Where privet abounds, as it does in central Alabama where Grumpy lives, so do the numbers of allergy sufferers clawing at their itchy eyes, blowing their noses, and asking you to please just shoot them.

2. The fruits that follow the flowers. Clusters of small, bluish-black berries hang on the hang for a long time, even through winter, until they are eaten by birds. The birds then spread the seeds inside to every place they go, sowing privet everywhere.

3. Privet likes it just about everywhere. It's only limited by the winter-hardiness of some species. It grows in sun. It grows in shade. It grows in wet soil soil. It grows in dry soil. It grows in the open. It grows in the woods. It grows through holes in the pavement. It has no serious pests. Even the stinking deer won't eat it. (Personally, I think they're a team.) 

Return to Sender

In the South, by far the worst privet is Chinese privet (L. sinense). This rounded evergreen shrub grows about 10-15 feet tall and wide and comes up everywhere. Unmanaged areas, like woods and roadsides, choke with the stuff. It's interesting to note that in Alabama, the most infested areas are those around cities. Why? Because cities are where garden centers selling Chinese privet set it loose on Sweet Home Alabama about 70 years ago.

I say, let's send it back. There are more than one billion people in China today. If we sent each one of them one of our Chinese privets, they would be grateful for our caring and the problem would be solved.

'Sunshine' Chinese privet

In fairness, there appears to be one Chinese privet that's safe to plant. It was recently introduced by Ball Horticultural Company and is called 'Sunshine.' It grows 5 to 6 feet tall and wide, has bright yellow leaves, and -- most importantly -- does not flower. No flowers, no seeds, no seedlings. 

How to Kill Privet

Evergreen privet is easy to spot in bare winter woods, so here's what I do. Wherever I spot a big bush, I use loppers to cut it off at the ground. It responds in spring by sending out a spray of new shoots with soft, green leaves. At the point, I spray it according to label directions with Roundup. B-bing! It's dead. 

You can still spray it in other seasons after other plants have leafed out. You just have to be careful not to spray and kill them. Don't spray when it's windy! Where you find seedlings, just pull them up.

Threats to Our Galaxy

In concluding my response to Mr. Spock's objections, I would like to emphasize the following points in my Annual Galactic Threat Assessment presented to the United Federation of Planets this spring.

The biggest threat is not a rogue doomsday device that pulverizes and eats entire planets.

The biggest threat is not a gigantic space amoeba that eats entire solar systems.

The biggest threat to the Galaxy is not even the Borg. 

This is the biggest threat. A privet with flowers.

Save Yourself from An Angry Mom!

Stumped about what to give Mom on Mother's Day? Afraid of what she'll do to you should you forget? Enter our give-away and you might win a beautiful 'Jubilation' gardenia from our Southern Living Plant Collection. Click here for details.

The incredibly early spring this year has folks itching like they slept naked in poison ivy to get out and buy their spring plants. And while you can most always get the lowest prices at big box stores, Grumpy encourages you to look beyond the price tag and check out the quality and variety of plants being offered. If you do, you will find yourself as I did, shopping at an independent garden center.

This is one of my favorite places in the Birmingham, AL metro area -- Collier's Nursery on Old Rocky Ridge Rd. in Hoover. The sheer blaze of flowers sitting in neat-as-a-pin rows makes Grumpy's mouth water. Other great garden centers in our area include Charlie Thigpen's Garden Gallery in downtown Birmingham, Oak Street Gardenshop in Crestline Village, Andy's Creekside Nursery in Vestavia, and Myer's Plants & Pottery in Pelham.  

How Little Guys Trump the Big Boys

Many years ago, Grumpy got his start in the horticulture biz by working at one of the most successful garden centers in America -- Homestead Gardens in Davidsonville, MD. We knew that taking on the big boys on price alone was suicide.You're just not going to undersell them on common stuff like lawn fertilizer when they're ordering 10 million bags. So what you have to do is offer the gardening public three things the big boxes don't.

   1. Great Selection

 2. Great Quality

3. Great Service

Homestead Gardens did that and thousands of people drove miles out of their way to shop there. 

I Want Choices!

One of Grumpy's main jobs as a garden editor for Southern Living is to educate our readers about what great, new plants they should be buying and what tired, old plants they should be casting into the compost. And nothing peeves me more than getting readers all excited about new, superior plants for the South and then no one is able to find them. For example, here's one I really like.

It's a new sun-tolerant coleus from Ball Horticulture called 'Wasabi.' It grows big and bushy, about 24 inches tall, and takes full, blazing sun and heat with nary a whimper. It doesn't flower until September (a big plus because coleus flower spikes are ugly) and you don't have to water it every day. You can go into an independent garden center and look for it by name. Why? Because the plants have tags with specific selection names on them -- not the generic "yellow coleus" and "red coleus" tags that you find at big boxes. 

Plants at big box stores are mainly ordered by people with zero knowledge of regional gardening. So they end up ordering the same old tired begonias, marigolds, and ageratums they always have, and much of the stuff won't even grow in your area. Grumpy can't count the number of times he has seen plants for sale at big boxes that grow like weeds in Los Angeles. Grumpy doesn't live in L.A. He lives in AL.

Great Quality

When I was at Homestead, we grew all of the annuals and perennials we sold, so quality was always top-notch. We saw the plants grow from seed to sale. Not every local garden center can do that, of course, but what they can do is buy plants from local wholesale growers who they know and trust. For example, many of the garden centers in the Birmingham metro area buy their flowers from Barton's Greenhouse & Nursery, a local wholesale grower. I've known co-owner Carol Barton since I moved to Alabama more than two decades ago. She grows the new varieties you won't find at a mass merchandiser and that gives me more interesting things to write about and better plants for readers.

Various colors of 'Aztec' verbena at Collier's. Wow!

But quality means nothing if plants aren't cared for once they're in the store. Again, this is where independent garden centers shine. If they let plants die, they lose money and their reputation. So they make sure plants stay in prime condition. On the opther hand, how many times have you walked into a big box and seen whole tables of plants dying from lack of water?

Great Service

Want to know if the flowers you're eyeing grow in sun or shade, come back every year, need much watering, or have problems with bugs? Forget about asking at a big box. For one thing, there's likely no one to ask. And even if there is, they haven't a clue. Independent garden centers are entirely different. Their employees know their plants. They can answer your questions and keep you from wasting your money. And if you bring them a sample of a sick or dying plant, they can often tell you the reason why.

Grumpy's Spring Fling

Here in central Alabama, Easter weekend is usually a good, safe time to start putting out annual and vegetable plants. Last fall, I planted Brussels sprouts in my front garden and they sucked big time. So this year, I'm replacing them with peppers and heat-tolerant tomatoes. But to give the garden some needed color, I'm also planting flowers. I like combining orange with blues and purples, so here are some flowers I picked out.

For orange, I chose 'Profusion Double Orange' zinnia. 'Profusion' is a cross between the big, common zinna (Zinnia elegans) and narrowleaf zinnia (Zinnia angustifolia) and comines the best traits of both. It blooms continuously all summer, doesn't need deadheading, tolerates heat and drought, and forms a mound about 12 to 15 inches high. 

That's 'Adessa Bicolor' angelonia on the left next to 'Carita Raspberry.

For blue/purple, I turned to one of my favorite heat- and drought-tolerant annuals for sun, angelonia. I thought I would go with Serena purple as I had before, but then this new one with purple-and-white flowers caught my eye. It's angelonia 'Adessa Bicolor." Can't wait to give it a try.

Wherever you live, make it a point to shop at your local garden centers. These are the small businesses that make it possible for gardening to be a blast each and every year. 

Win A Gardenia For Mom!

The Southern Living Plant Collection introduces its Mother’s Day Gardenia Giveaway to one lucky mom. Sign her up, and if chosen, she'll win four 'Jubilation' gardenias that will fill the air with fragrance in spring and then re-bloom through summer into fall. Clink this link to enter: southernlivingplants.com/mothersdaygiveaway

The contest begins April 15 and lasts until May 8. The lucky winner will be notified prior to Mother’ Day, so that our entrant can surprise Mom with a beautiful gift.

 The Southern Living® Plant Collection provides gardeners with innovative new plants designed to solve specific landscape challenges and to excel in Southern gardens.

Some plants are worth the wait, and the wait, and the wait after that. In other words, they're just like women getting dressed and trying on shoes. All in good time, my pretty.

Behold the blooms of the plant that mightily tested the bounds of Grumpy's patience the last six years. Native to South Africa, it's a relative of amaryllis called clivia (Clivia miniata). Combining handsome foliage with gorgeous flowers, it's breathtaking when it blooms. But unless you know how to grow it correctly, you just might take your final breath before you ever see a flower.

I first gained a true fondness for clivia years ago when I was doing a story for Coastal Living on the fabulous garden of writer Pat Welch near San Diego. Pat had arranged 3 or 4 big pots of bright orange clivia under an arbor. The sight was spectacular. When I commented on their beauty, Pat said, "No plant gives more color longer in the shade than clivia." I was sold.

So I bought a one-gallon plant of clivia 'Flame' with the orange-red flowers you see above. I transplanted it into a large terra-cotta pot and placed it in what I thought was the perfect spot -- a corner of my breakfast room with pretty, filtered light. Gradually, its leaves filled the pot and the plant looked so happy. And every spring, I would wait for the magical blossoms to appear. And........nothing.

Finally, I wrote about my troubles on the garden site, Plant Porn (where plant geeks from around the world post photos about weird, strange, and erotic-looking plants) and asked if anybody knew what I was doing wrong. Within 5 minutes, I had my answer. I wasn't giving my clivia proper winter care.

See, clivia likes the winter weather of its native land, which means cool temperatures (around 50-55 degrees) and very little water. So I moved my clivia into my garage all winter where it got indirect light and temps in the 50's. I watered maybe once in 3 months and did not fertilize. Finally, in early March it was warm enough to put the clivia on my front porch. I watered it thoroughly until water ran from the drainage hole. And this is what my clivia has looked like for the last 3 weeks.

Pretty nice, huh? Patience really is a virtue.

You, Too, Can Grow Clivia

Clivia is durable, long-lived, and carefree, so you don't need to be a gardening prodigy like Grumpy to grow it and love it. Look for it at your local garden center. If you can't find it there, Logee's is a good mail-order source. In frost-free areas, you can leave it outdoors year-round. Elsewhere, grow it in a pot that you bring inside for winter. 

Give it light shade, as direct sun will burn the foliage. Plant it in a nice pot filled with good potting soil. Make sure the pot drains freely. From spring to fall, fertilize every other week with a general-purpose liquid houseplant fertilizer. Water when the soil surface becomes dry. Don't worry if leaves fill the pot. Clivia thrives with crowded roots and may even bloom better this way. You'll hardly ever need to repot. Come fall, take clivia inside before the first frost and treat it as I described above. Clivia may be related to amaryllis, but its flowers last much longer. One plant can bloom for a month.

Here's some extra incentive to try clivia. It also comes in yellow! The one below is 'Good Hope.'

Give clivia a try and bring a smile to Grumpy's face. You know his happiness is paramount.

The azaleas in front of Grumpy's palace are in full bloom now and looking glorious. But they wouldn't be if they hadn't been pruned at the right time. They'd be boring, green blobs. Here's how to prune azaleas correctly and avoid the state of green blobness so prevalent in our neighborhoods.

What to Prune

There are two classes of azaleas -- native azaleas and Asian azaleas. Native azaleas, sometimes called "wild honeysuckle" for their fragrant blooms with long stamens, are deciduous. They never need pruning, so the rest of this epistle is not about them.

Asian azaleas are the evergreen ones almost everyone in the South, including yours truly, feels compelled to plant. They come from Japan. Within this class, there are two popular groups. Kurume hybrids, like 'Coral Bells,' 'Hino Crimson,' and 'Hershey's Red,' are dense, compact plants with small, glossy leaves, that grow 3-4 feet high. They bloom early and the flowers nearly hide the foliage. The seond class are called Southern Indian hybrids. They grow at least twice as large and much faster than the Kurumes and aren't as dense. They also bloom about 1-2 weeks later and aren't quite as cold-hardy, so you see them mostly from the Carolinas south. 'George Taber' (pink), 'Formosa' (purple), and 'Mrs. G.G. Gerbing' (white) are popular varieties.

When to Prune

Timing is critical if you want your azaleas to bloom next year. The best time to prune is within a three week period after they finish blooming in spring. This gives the azaleas plenty of time to make flower buds for next year. If you prune in summer or fall, you'll cut off the flower buds and assure green blobness next spring.

How to Prune

DO NOT (repeat) DO NOT USE HEDGE TRIMMERS to shear azaleas into tight boxes. This looks awful and results in foliage and flowers that exist only on the outer inch of the shrubs. Instead, use mostly hand pruners. Reach inside the shrub and cut back branches to slightly different lengths to create a cloudlike, mounding shape. Loppers may be necessary to prune thick branches. Kurume hybrids grow much slower than Southern Indian hybrids and usually require pruning only once in 4-5 years. Southern Indians grow fast and depending on where they're planted, may need it every year.

Drastic Measures I Confess To

When Grumpy bought his palace many years ago, the first thing he did was rip out the cheapo $1 shrubs the builder planted in front and replace them with 6 small 'George Taber' azaleas. He pruned them with hand pruners every spring after blooming. They grow so vigorously, however, that eventually they'd grown up to the dining room windows and the branches were too thick to cut with hand pruners. Drastic action was required.

Azalea murder in  progress. Weapon sighted. Branches cut.

As your hero and mentor, it pains me to say this, but Grumpy resorted to azalea murder. The azaleas needed to be reduced in size by half. This required loppers. I cut back the thickest branches first. I showed no mercy.

Crime completed. Body parts collected. Neighbors horrified.

Yes, I knew my azaleas were going to look awful. In fact, after pruning they looked like butchered sticks. But here's the cool thing about evergreen azaleas. Unlike many shrubs, you can cut them back beyond the foliage to bare wood. In a couple of weeks, the bare sticks will leaf out fully and no one will know that you pruned.

This is how my George Tabers looked just a few days ago as they just started blooming. No green blobness at Grumpy's house.

And here's how they look today. The District Attourney has decided to drop all charges.

Today marks the end of Grumpy's 2nd Annual Crepe Murder Contest. To all who entered and to all who wrote such appropriately disparaging things about our winners, Grumpy would like to say thanks from the bottom of his vast reservoir of vitriol and sarcasm. Well done!

Looking back at each of the previous 9 horrors, I was convinced ugliness had reached a pinnacle. There was simply no way any crepe murder could surpass the hitching post murder (Winner #7), the crepe murder gone postal (Winner #5), the porcupine murder (Winner #6), or the gnawed femur murder (Winner #9). But then Jennifer Hill of Sugar Land, Texas discovered the freak pictured below. Grumpy stands in awe.

What impresses me most about this aberration is the way it combines so many of the terrible pruning practices we've seen in previous winners.

1. Main trunks are sawed off at the knees, leaving ugly stumps.

2. The ugly stumps are allowed to grow a foot taller and then cut off exactly the same way to make double-decker stumps. 

3. Several more years of mentally impaired pruning produces triple-decker stumps. 

4. All new growth is cut back to the same point on these stumps year after year, creating tumor-like growths that look like the warts on a witch's nose.

5. Finally, a few new branches are set free on the top, no doubt with the goal of making quadruple-decker stumps.

Please stop. Please stop now. Don't make me have to send a few of my boys over.

Can This Crepe Murder Be Saved?

Only one way. Cut it off at the ground and start over.

Thanks for the Horrible Memories!

This year of crepe murder has truly been one for the ages. We've seen once again how utterly incompetent gardeners can be when they take leave of their senses and take hold of a saw. Like every previous winner, Jennifer will receive a lavender 'Early Bird' crepe myrtle from our Southern Living Plant Collection. This crepe myrtle grows only 8 feet tall and never needs pruning.

Don't be too upset if your entry didn't win this year. Thanks to your neighbors' historic and widespread lack of taste, I know there will be even more grotesque murders to photograph next year. In the meantime, bask in the comforting knowledge that you know ugly when you see it. You are among the chosen few.

Ever watch one of those shows on "Animal Planet" about a pride of lions on the hunt? Unlike other big cats, they work as a team to separate one prey animal from a herd and take it down. then they go into a growling, snapping feeding frenzy, sticking their faces in, ripping out guts, tearing off a leg, and generally enjoying another nice dinner out with the family.

By the time the lions have eaten their fill and prepare to go sleepy-by, all that's left of the poor gazelle, zebra, or wildebeest are some gnawed, gory leg and hip bones. And that's how I know whoever did this to their crepe myrtle is a big fan of "Animal Planet." Because these grotesque stumps cut off at the same place every spring for the last 20 years aren't merely awful. They're gnawful.  

Many thanks to Anne Marie Ashley for sending Grumpy this prize-winner!

Corrective Surgery

If you inherited an ugly plant like this one, could you restore its beauty? Yes, but it would require drastic measures. You'd have to cut all the trunks to the ground, select 3-4 well-spaced new shoots growing up to become new trunks, and cut off the rest. As the tree grows, remove all side branches from the trunks up to a height of 4 feet or so. This will expose the pretty bark.

What's Crepe Murder?

For the uninitiated, crepe murder refers to the odious practice of using chainsaws and loppers to reduce beautiful crepe myrtles to hideous stumps every spring. Not only does this ruin their sculptural form, but it also prevents them from developing that wonderfully mottled, smooth, flaky bark so welcome in the winter landscape. Moreover, the long, whiplike branches that grow from the stumps are too weak to hold up the flowers.

Prizes! Prizes!

Like every winner, Anne Marie will receive a lavender 'Early Bird' crepe myrtle from our Southern Living Plant Collection. This crepe myrtle grows only 8 feet tall and never needs pruning. Come back tomorrow to see our final winner of 2012. This is gonna gross you out.  

"Bless their hearts!" That's the only thing a Southerner can say when you come upon a scene like this one.

The homeowners here clearly weren't trying to bring down the neighborhood when they chopped off their two crepe myrtles at the knees. No, they were engaged in neighborhood beautification!

Why else would they duct-tape plastic flowers to the ends of the crepe myrtle stumps? Why else would they surround them with wire and miniature picket fences crammed with even more plastic flowers of every color? They were turning a negative into a positive. And I think that's a lesson that benefits us all.

Grumpy thanks Kathy Dikeman of Littleton, North Carolina for this excellent submission. She turned my frown upside-down.

What's Crepe Murder?

For the uninitiated, crepe murder refers to the odious practice of using chainsaws and loppers to reduce beautiful crepe myrtles to hideous stumps every spring. Not only does this ruin their sculptural form, but it also prevents them from developing that wonderfully mottled, smooth, flaky bark so welcome in the winter landscape. Moreover, the long, whiplike branches that grow from the stumps are too weak to hold up the flowers.

Prizes! Prizes!

Like every winner, Kathy will receive a lavender 'Early Bird' crepe myrtle from our Southern Living Plant Collection. This crepe myrtle grows only 8 feet tall and never needs pruning. Come back Monday to see our next winner. It will chill you to the bone.