A gerbera daisy is about the prettiest, most striking flower around. It It flaunts five-inch blossoms in vivid colors of red, orange, coral, pink, yellow, and cream. It has just one itty-bitty problem. You can't keep the damn thing alive.

Native to the Transvaal region of South Africa (which gives the plant its other common name, Transvaal daisy), gerberas (Gerbera jamesonii ) feature single or double flowers that rise on stems above tufts of foliage that look a little like sorrel. They're supposedly perennial in the Coastal and Tropical South (Zones 9 and 10) and treated as annual elsewhere.

Frankly, from my experience and that of many readers, they ought to be treated as "daily." 

The problem seems to be our rainfall and humidity. See, the climates of South Africa and the Southeastern U.S. don't exactly match. Gerberas don't like heavy, wet soil and our summer downpours. They rot faster than cheap siding.

Grumpy would guess that gerbera is one of those plants that grows much better in a container than in the ground (unless your soil is sandy), because you can give it perfect drainage,

Still, a lifetime measured in minutes does have a positive side. You know how you agonize about what to get your mother for Mother's Day, because she's 80 years old and has everything already and you know she's never touched the quiche maker, fruit dehydrator, or build-your-own casket kit you gave her years before? Gerbera daisy is your salvation. You can give her one this year and be absolutely sure it'll be dead by next year, so you can give her another one.

If any of you know secrets to successfully keeping gerbera daisies alive for more than a week, please enlighten the rest of Grumpy's readers.

Of course, if you do, we'll all have to find something else to give our mothers. Rats!

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Bonus Gardening Advice Dispensed on a Variety of Topics With 100% Accuracy!

It is Grumpy's nature to give and give and give some more. So here are eye-opening and life-fulfilling answers to some of your gardening questions of the day.

Hostas: I have some 4-year old hostas that are getting a bit unruly. They are basically HUGE. When is the best time to separate them without killing the plants? Laura

Grumpy responds: Not now when the afternoon temps are still hitting the 90's. Wait until the fall when the foliage is starting to wither and turn yellow. Or wait until next spring when the new shoots popping up are just a couple of inches high.

Rabbits: How do I get rid of rabbits in my yard? Dode

Grumpy responds: I weally wesent wascally wabbits wunning woughshod awound my wesidence wobbing my wadiant wed wadishes, wipe 'Woma' tomatoes, and scwumptious Bwussels spwouts!  So my fwiend, Elmer Fudd, watches 24-7, weady to wet woose with a wolley from his wapid-fire weapon! You can also use a wabbit wepellent like Rabbit Scram and Liquid Fence or even Hot Pepper Wax awound your pwants. Wabbit twaps work well and are weadily available.

Lawn woes: We want to kill our weed-laden and eroded lawn, amend the soil, and reseed with bluegrass or tall fescue in September. Is there a friendly way to strip the yard bare? Do you have any recommendations for how to get rid of one lawn and start a new one in its place? Melinda in Virginia

Grumpy responds: First, spray your existing lawn according to label directions with Roundup. This will kill all the existing grass and weeds in about a week. Then reapply to spots you missed before. After everything is dead, amend the soil, seed it, and keep the soil moist. Apply a seed-starter fertilizer after the grass germinates. You'll have to seed again in the spring to thicken the lawn, especially if you use fescue, which doesn't spreads by runners as bluegrass does.

Some of the world's great mysteries may never be solved -- like how did the hosts of "Fox & Friends" ever graduate from high school? But there is one mystery plaguing a lot of gardeners right now upon which Grumpy will shine the light of knowledge and understanding -- why crepe myrtles sometimes change color. 

Take a look at the crepe myrtle bloom above. There's a  teeny chance it's supposed to look like that (for example, one called 'Prairie Lace' has deep pink blossoms edged in white). However, the much more likely culprit is the weather.

Red is the rarest naturally occurring color among crepe myrtles. People love red. And so two fairly recent introductions, 'Dynamite' and 'Red Rocket', have exploded in popularity (pun intended). They resist mildew, tolerate heat and cold, bloom for a long time, produce few seeds, don't get too big (15 to 20 feet tall). They also flaunt vivid red flowers

But they share one weird idiosyncrasy. When flowers open during cool, cloudy weather, instead of opening red, they open white. And that's when people freak out and invest all their life savings in bomb shelter carpeting.

I watched the color change in my neighborhood about a week ago. After a month-and-a-half of brutally hot temps in the high-90's, we had a rainy, cloudy Saturday. Shortly thereafter, I began noticing red crepe myrtles with white flowers.

There is nothing you can do, including fertilizing with uranium or sunbathing nude on Mercury, to change this. That's they way these new crepe myrtles are. So learn to love it.  

Our Stinking Weather

Weather affects the colors of many flowers, not just those of crepe myrtles. Don't you just love the way that "pink" daffodils and "yellow" magnolias never turn that color for you because the spring is too hot? Other flowers that you wouldn't normally think of change color too. For instance:

This phlox in my garden bloomed deep pink during the heat. Then we had that rainy weekend. When the next flush of flowers opened, a white spot adorned nearly every petal. Weird? Nope. Normal.

Anybody want to buy 5,000 yards of storm shelter carpeting? I'll give you a deal.

If Murphy was standing in front of me now, I'd punch him right in the face. You know his law -- "Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." That's never truer than on a Southern Living photo shoot.

Photographing a beautiful garden, like that of Birmingham landscape architect Troy Rhone (shown above), isn't as easy as it sounds. See, the thing is, if it's going to be in Southern Living, everything has to be perfect. We don't want a leaf, flower, seat cushion, or recently escaped convict out of place. We don't want harsh light, screeching wind, or a big load of dog poop in the middle of the grass.

(Note to readers: Contrary to popular convention, the Grump does not ascribe to the notion that shortening "poop" to "poo" makes it any less disgusting. Calling it a "bomb" or "land mine" does not do so either. It only emphasizes the point that your dog has not been properly toilet-trained and that you should therefore be whipped.)

Shooting a garden is not like shooting a room. With a garden, you often have only a very narrow window of opportunity to get it at its best. If a shrub dies, if the owner dies, if someone drives the Exxon Valdez over the lawn, if a monsoon comes, if Charles Manson comes, the whole shoot could be ruined for a year

So lots of legwork and innumerable visits with the homeowners, landscape architects, designers, and photo stylists take place before the shoot, ensuring that absolutely nothing could go wrong. But, of course, it does. Thank you, idiot Murphy. The garden below is a good example.

We planned to shoot this beautiful garden in the early morning light to capture the elegance of its formal design, the simplicity of its plant palette (boxwood, crepe myrtle, and grass), and the utter peacefulness of the spot. Notice anything that's not quite right? 

You got it. The swing on the right under the arbor. The painters were supposed to stain both of them dark the night before. Only they ran out of stain after doing the first swing. So knowing that we would be shooting in the morning, they asked themselves, "Should we get more stain now and finish before then? Or should we leave and go get a beer?" In case you're in suspense, beer always trumps stain. 

True -- we could have photo-shopped the unstained bench, but our integrity (and ire) wouldn't allow it. So we called the painters and threatened them with unspeakable horrors (unchilled salad forks and wearing white before Easter) if they didn't rush right over immediately and finish the next morning before it got too sunny.

They only had time to stain the front, but hey, that's all the camera could see.

Here's another example of a garden that was beautiful the day before the shoot, but something unforeseen occurred prior to the following morning. The owner's black lab peed on the boxwood in front of the house, making a big brown patch on it. Muchas gracias, you fleabag Fido.

We tried spray-painting the spot, but never could find a "boxwood green' that looked natural. So we photographed the garden anyway and probably will resort to Ye Olde Photo Shoppe for this one.

When you have only a very short time to photograph something, the least oversight can screw up a shot -- like the homeowner forgetting to water. Living flowers need water. It's rule. I didn't make it up.

No, we can't always shoot "around' drooping, dying annuals. This is why I'm such a staunch proponent of plastic flowers in home gardens. Plastic rocks.

I'm not the only Southern Living editor who's felt Murphy's wrath. A little while back, garden editor Gene Bussell had made arrangements to drive from Alabama to North Carolina to photograph a garden with a sweep of rare, endangered orchids. The homeowner assured him everything would be perfect and told the yard man to make it so. The yard man grabbed his weed-whacker and vowed that not a single weed would remain.

The next day when Gene arrived, he discovered the yard man thought orchids were weeds.  

For nearly a week now, a nearly unbearable burden has been weighing heavily on those faithful readers of the Grumpy Gardener. Who fessed up to making stupid gardening goofs this year? Who of them would Grumpy forgive?

Let's begin with Pat T, who could not figure out why her beautiful perennial coneflowers, like the one above, never came back. Then she realized that the newly sprouting leaves and stems in spring looked like weeds to her and she'd been pulling them up! "Don't judge," she writes. "I am a relatively new gardener." Well, Pat, newness is not an excuse and the Grump will judge. His verdict -- you are forgiven.

Now let's examine the egregious case of UrsulaV, who admits she "carries the greatest burden of guilt." She bought four rare and endangered Tennessee coneflowers (Echinacea tennesseensis), and in "a misguided effort ot save the world, I planted them." Unbelievable. What possessed her?

But wait -- it gets worse. When rabbits started eating them, she dumped used cat litter around the base of the plants to discourage the savage rodents. Then it poured rain.The dissolved ammonia killed off anything the rabbits hadn't and the flower beds smelled like cat pee. Rare plants became even rarer that day. Still, Grumpy grants you mercy. The coneflowers won't.

Some readers are judged more harshly than others, because they really ought to  know better. Such is the stultifying example of Henry H, who works in the green industry. "Sprinkling Miracle-Gro around some flowers instead of mixing it with water is not such a good idea," he admits. "Only killed about 20% of the impatiens I had planted, but I can't laugh anymore when my customers ask if they can do it."

Obviously, Henry, you're one of those "do-as-I-say" people and not a "do-as-I-do." It's nice to know that so many beginning gardeners can count on you for sage and accurate advice. Then again, everybody makes mistakes. And as long as long as you promise to learn from yours and never tell customers the wrong thing again, your case is dismissed.

 Next on the docket -- a grievous horticultural offense more common than Mahmoud Ahmadinejad wearing a Speedo. Becky writes, "One day, I was spraying both Deer-Off and Roundup. At the end of the day, I decided to do one last round of Deer-Off, but, yes, you guessed it, I grabbed the Roundup. I spent 30 minutes spraying nearly everything in the garden."

Fortunately, she quickly realized her mistake and hosed off all of her plants before they could absorb the herbicide. In the future, she resolves to wear glasses while spraying. Grumpy thinks that's a good idea, but adds that spraying your entire garden with Roundup is actually very effective in keeping deer from eating it. Becky is granted absolution.

Case #5. Julian Chandler "murdered" geraniums, scaevola, ferns, and a dead nettle by planting them all in the wrong places. But the Grumps asks, "How much grief can I give you for having a dead dead nettle?" Dismissed.

Case #6. Carolyn planted elaeagnus (a plant Grumpy loathes) and it's taking over. Linda ignored wisteria and it's smothering everything too. Jim admits he let an airhead 20-something intern talk him into making his garden so large that he's a slave to plants. Jim, Jim, Jim. Should I wire you $8 million from Nigeria?

Well, it's Friday morning and I'm off to Tanzania with 30 of my closest friends to spray-paint a sleeping rhinoceros. I'll be back soon, but in the meatime I thought you might enjoy hearing Grumpy fess up to his own disastrous advice. A lady called here to say the leaves of her azaleas were developing chlorosis (yellow with green veins),  because her soil wasn't acid enough. I told her one way to acidify her soil without using chemicals was to pour leftover coffee around the roots.

I had no idea she'd use hot coffee.

Thanks to EraPhernalia Vintage and Samdogs for the pix. 

With everyone's tomatoes, petunias, and Himalayan poppies all burned up and looking hideous, it's fessin' up time in the Land of the Grump. Fold your hands and answer truthfully. 

* What beautiful plant did you kill through your own sheer neglect?

* What rampaging plant did you try out that's now taken over your yard?

*  What little plant that you stuck by the front door has now completely hidden your house?

* Why did you say "Yes" to the gap-toothed stranger who offered to trim your bushes?

* Did you scalp your lawn below ground level so it wouldn't need cutting as much?

* Why did you think a California redwood would be perfect for your yard in Laredo?

The Truth Will Set You Free

I know it's hard for many of you to admit mistakes in public, but don't be shy. Even Grumpy kills things. (In most cases, they deserved to die, but that's beside the point.) Admitting the truth is cathartic -- it makes you feel better. It also makes everyone who reads about it and didn't make that same stupid mistake feel better. So see, it a real win-win for everybody.

Ask Erin Street, who writes our Live Healthy blog. We're doing a makeover of her front yard. Part of the new planting is a big sweep of 'Cleopatra' liriope that produces very showy purple flowers in summer. Erin, a great-niece of Morticia Addams, thought the flowers were weeds. So she picked them off. Guess we won't be taking pictures of her yard this year! But she fessed up, so she's forgiven. 

Grumpy's Grand Guilty Give-Away!

Our marketing people tell me readers love giveaways. So I'm announcing the Grumpy Gardener's First Annual Guilty Giveaway! Just publicly confess to your wrong-doing in this forum and six lucky winners will have all their garden guilt permanently erased.

Don't be selfish. Help others benefit from your egregious goof-ups. So who'll be first? What's the dumbest thing you did in your garden this year?

 

Introducing the Most Hated Plant in America, the plant that has caused more misery, embarrassment , and disfigurement than all of the quack plastic surgeons in Costa Rica put together. Poison ivy.

Poison ivy (Toxicondendron radicans) is a rampant vine native to much of the eastern U.S. So for all you dimwits out there who proclaim native plants are always better than exotics, I say go plant yourself a patch of this stuff and lay down in it for a nap. Hey, its leaves do turn a beautiful orange-red in the fall, so it has considerable ornamental value! Coincidentally, the insanely itchy rash you'll develop all over your skin will be pretty much the same color. 

When I was a kid, my older brother, Ed, was deathly allergic to poison ivy. He couldn't even walk within 50 feet of it without breaking out and screaming hysterically. Once, when he was about 14 or so, he got into some while we were visiting relatives. Blisters covered his whole right arm and they were oozing like a slug. He wrapped his arm with 3 thicknesses of paper towels. Within 10 minutes the towels were soaked.

It was at this strategic moment that my uncle, recognizing the affliction for what it was, pulled my brother aside and whispered, "Son, have you been doing something you're afraid to tell your folks about?"

Ed's first lesson on the perils of VD.

My parents finally took him to the doctor for a cortisone shot that cleared it up. Glad it wasn't a penicillin shot -- THAT would have been awkward.

The gross-out rash following contact with poison ivy (which I will NOT show here, as this is supposed to be a beautiful blog) is caused by an evil and very persistent oil called urushiol that is present in all parts of the plant. It can remain on uncleaned clothing for a year and still cause a rash upon new contact with skin. The best way to avoid the rash is to avoid the plant in the first place. 

If you had a mother who cared about you, you probably remember her warning regarding poison ivy: "Leaflets three, let it be."  Each poison ivy leaf (see photos above) is composed of three leaflets. Poison ivy is often confused with another native vine (shown below) that also turns red in fall called Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia). But Virginia creeper has five leaflets, not three. Except for the fact that it's an annoying weed, the latter vine is harmless.

But how can you identify poison ivy in the winter, after it's lost all of its leaves? Easy. Look closely at the trunk of the tree it's climbing. Thousands of hairy, reddish-brown aerial roots (below) hold the poison ivy stem tightly to the tree bark. DON'T TOUCH THE STEM OR ROOTS. They contain urushiol and can give you poison ivy even in winter.

Poison Ivy -- Myth or Fact?

Poison ivy has afflicted people for so long that a lot of old wives tales surround it. Fortunately, you have me, the Grumpy Gardener, to infallibly separate myth from reality. Let's examine the following beliefs.

"You can get poison ivy from your pet."

FACT. If Goebbels, Barfy, or Fleabag has been romping through woods that's filled with poison ivy, urushiol will get on their fur and then transfer to you when you pet them. So you either have to give them a good bath (wear rubber gloves) outdoors or resolve never to pet them again. Or you could pet them using a broom.

"You can get poison ivy from Superman."

MYTH. Superman is a comic book character.

"You can get poison ivy from drinking milk from cows that ate poison ivy."

MYTH. Think about it. If this were possible, you'd have gotten poison ivy this way already, because no farmer with cows in the field can supervise what all the cows eat. Urushiol does not come out in the milk.

"Poison ivy is contagious."

MYTH. Look, we're not talking smallpox here. Poison ivy is caused by an oil, not a virus. The only way to get it from a person is by touching the oil on their skin or clothing.

"Scratching poison ivy blisters spreads the rash."

MYTH. The ooze that comes from the blisters is not urushiol, but the gunk your body produces as part of an allergic reaction. Only spreading the oil, not the ooze, can spread the rash.

"You can get poison ivy by burning poison ivy."

FACT. If you burn dead or living poison ivy, urushiol will contaminate the smoke. If the smoke contacts your skin, you'll get a rash. If you breathe in the smoke, you can suffer a horrible reaction all the way down to your lungs. So don't burn it!

"Some people are immune to poison ivy."

PROBABLE MYTH. I used to think I was immune as a kid, because my brother always it and I never did. When I was 20, though, and convinced of my invincibility, I tore poison ivy off of a tree with my bare hands. To my amazement, I developed an agonizing rash and have been sensitive to this day. Like other allergens, urushiol may not affect you at first, but each touch puts your immune system on alert. You never know when the next touch will set it off.

Preventing Poison Ivy Rash

Like I said before, the best way to avoid a rash is to avoid the oil. Wear gloves, long sleeves, and long pants while working around poison ivy and then wash your clothes in detergent. As an alternative (or supplement), coat your skin with a product like Ivy Block or Ivy-Dry Defense before you venture outdoors. These non-prescription products block the oil from reaching your skin. Or you can choose to live your life inside a protective plastic bubble, like the famous Bubble Boy on "Seinfeld." As we all know, he never once got poison ivy, although he did lose to George at "Trivial Pursuits." In case you don't remember, the correct answer was, "Moops."

Treating Poison Ivy Once You're Dumb Enough to Get It

OK, you have poison ivy. What are you gonna do to dry up the goo and stop the infernal itching? My mother used to smear Calamine lotion on the rash. As far as I could tell, Calamine is a pink placebo. You might as well smear on Pepto-Bismol. 

Country remedies abound. One says that if you feed your goat poison ivy and then drink the goat's milk, you'll become immune. Of course, that assumes you have a goat....and poison ivy plants....and you're not lactose-intolerant...and you have the IQ of a beaver.

Another remedy involves soaking a cotton ball in white vinegar, then dabbing it on the blisters five times a day. Reader Trisha Davenport Hardee says this worked like a charm for her husband, although "he smelled like salad dressing."  

Sometimes when you're out in the woods, you have to use whatever's handy. That's when you turn to an impatiens relative called jewel weed (Impatiens capensis).

You'll know this plant by its pretty orange flowers (left). It grows in moist areas, often in association with poison ivy. So if you know you've touched poison ivy, grab some jewel weed, crush the stems, and smear the juice over the skin that was touched. It will stop the rash from forming. You can also use the juice to dry up an existing rash and relieve the itching. According to reports, the juice also relieves the irritation caused by contact with stinging nettles (Urtica dioica).

I have no evidence that jewel weed relieves the unbearable headaches one gets from listening to the incessant screaming on "The View," but I'm willing to give it a shot. 

Commercial Remedies

* Use Tecnu to quickly remove urushiol from the skin before a rash begins.

* Use Ivy-Dry Cream to dry up and relieve the itching of an existing rash.

Who can ever forget the scene of the Wicked Witch of the West screaming, "I'm melting! I'm melting!" after accidentally being splashed with a bucket of water? Right row, entering what seems like our 60th straight day of 100 degrees and no rain, I'd love to be splashed right in the face.

These are what's known as the "dog days of summer," because as we all know, canines more than any other animals like to watch people suffer. Just look at this dog at left. Do you think he's lost one second of sleep worrying about how this heat is affecting his master? I think not.

He's thinking, "Let's play! Chase me around the house and all through the neighborhood until we can hardly breathe! Now let's smell stuff. Oh, that's so disgusting, I can't stop! Whoa, there goes a car. Chase and bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Why have you stopped running? Are you having a stroke yet? Bark!"

So it is up to we humans to deal with with not only our own suffering, but that of our plants as well. With these thoughts in mind, here are some simple, but typically ingenious, steps that you can take to help both your plants and you survive until fall.

Plant Survival Tips

Don't cut your grass when it's hot and dry. If you do, your grass will immediately turn brown and you'll have to water a lot to make it green again. This wastes water. Instead, let let grass grow 3-4 inches tall before you mow. It'll stay green longer and need less water. I know, I know -- some snooty neighborhoods frown upon lawns that grow taller than asphalt, but I say a thick, green lawn that's 4 inches tall beats a scalped, brown lawn any day. 

Don't fertilize plants that are stressed by heat and drought. The last thing they need is to grow more water-demanding leaves and stems. Giving high-nitrogen fertilizer to a stressed plants is like handing a Red Bull to a cardiac patient. If you just have to fertilize, make sure the soil is moist first and stays that way. Never fertilize a dry plant. The chemical salts in the fertilizer will suck water from the plant.

Don't spray herbicides, pesticides, or oil sprays on plants when it's hot. The spray dries so fast, it burns the leaves. Instead, spray in early morning when it's cool and the wind is calm. 

Don't dig up and transplant trees, shrubs, or most any other plant now. It's just too hot. The transplanting shock will kill them. Wait until fall.

Don't trust your lawn sprinklers to do a good job watering other plants. Trees, shrubs, and perennials need a thorough soaking once or twice a week, not a 15-minute spritzing every day. Water must get water to the roots, not just wet the foliage.

Don't let container plants dry out. Their limited soil mass and exposure to the heat on all sides means they dry out much more quickly than plants in the ground. In hot weather, containers may need watering once or twice a day.  

People Survival Tips

A while back, Grumpy asked readers on our Southern Living website how they cope with 90-plus degree weather in the garden. I usually survive by keeping a cooler of cold beer handy as well as a servant girl to fan me, but here are some other methods you might try.

Laura Sipple says: "If I'm going to be working in one general area, I pitch our 10'x10' canopy tent, grab the extension cords, and plug in a portable outdoor fan. I can get a lot of weeding done that way!" Grumpy applauds her ingenuity.

Godwin Creek Farms says: "Yesterday, I gardened with cold packs stuffed in my socks." Getting cold feet right now is a good thing.

Linda Sayre says: "My husband fills up an unused, insulated pump sprayer with ice cold water and ice cubes and sprays himself down throughout the day. He may get wet, but it prevents him from dying from heat stroke!" Grumpy adds it's also fun and you can spray other people!

Karen J. Jasczynski says: "I garden before 10 AM and during the twilight hours, doing what needs to be done quickly. I guess you could call me the 'Twilight Gardener' without fangs!" Grumpy always suspected many vampires were gardeners.

Finally, Amy Patterson McPherson offers the wisest advice of all. She suggests "hiring a landscaper and watching him from my kitchen window." Especially if he has ripped abs and pects. 

Thanks to exfordy for the happy dog.

A nagging question wracked your mind when you woke up this morning. "Why do plants have Latin names?" As always, Grumpy is here to reveal the truth and put you at ease.

Some people think plants have Latin names because they were all named by Penelope Cruz. This is not true. They were named by Carlos Santana.

Oops, you caught me lying there. I won't do that again -- for at least another couple of paragraphs. Plants have Latin names due to the genus and species system of naming plants developed by famed Swedish botanist, Carolus Linnaeus. Below is a statue of old Carl at the Linnaeus Teaching Gardens at the Tulsa Garden Center. Tulsa was the first capital of Sweden.

Oops. Did it again. Anyway, Linnaeus chose Latin for his system because if he chose Polish or Farsi or Swahili, the people in those countries he didn't select would resent it and refuse to study horticulture. So he picked Latin because it's a dead language and speaking it today makes people appear smarter and get better jobs.

Latin (botanical) names are necessary, because common names for plants vary from region to region and even from town to town. One plant may live under several different common names. Or a single common name may refer to several plants that don't look anything alike (example: bluebells). Assigning a plant a single Latin name -- say, Cornus florida (flowering dogwood) -- means it won't get mixed up with something else.

Latin names tell you a lot about a plant if you pay attention to the lingo. They can tell you:

+ Where a plant is from (canadensis, chinensis, japonica, virginiana)

+ The color of flowers or foliage (alba = white, aurea = golden, lutea = yellow, rubra = red)  

+ What a plant is used for (Hepatica or liverwort has been used to treat hepatitis of the liver)

+ The shape of the plant (arborea = treelike, compacta = dense), nana = dwarf, scandens = climbing) 

In addition, many people are honored by having their names incorporated into the Latin names. Examples:

+Twinleaf (Jeffersonia diphylla) -- George Jefferson

+ Franklin tree (Franklinia alatamaha) -- Aretha Franklin  

+ Loblolly bay (Gordonia lasianthus) -- Commissioner Gordon

+Lewisia -- Huey Lewis & The News

Give Grumpy Gardener a Latin Name!

Gardening pundits agree. The Grumpy Gardener (show below) deserves his own Latin name that will forever cement his place in the pantheon of People Named Steve Who Write Blogs. So suggest a name of your own or vote for one of those listed below. Be a part of history!

So far, the leading vote-getters for Grump's Latin name are:

+ Hunkasaurus rex

+ Beefcakia magnifica

+ Lustus robustus

+ Gluteus max-tonus

+ Testosteronus imperialis

Vote now! Vote often!

One of the many reasons only numb-skulls douse their whole gardens with insecticides nowadays is that we've come to realize that many insects help plants by eating bugs that devour plants. Among the coolest of beneficial insects are the aptly-named assassin bugs. These ninjas of the insect world fearlessly stalk, attack, and consume many harmful and annoying pests without you ever knowing they were there.

Take a gander at the drama unfolding below. A milkweed assassin bug, distingusihed by its red-and-black body, has set its sights on a pesky fly. Any guesses how this scene turns out?

Many genera and species of assassin bugs exist in the world. And though some tropical species seek out people, those in the U.S. are entirely beneficial. They range from about 1/2-inch to 1-1/2 inches long, and depending on the species and stage of life, may be green, red, orange, yellow, black, brown, or gray. Narrow heads with very long antennae are trademarks. Assassin bugs are active hunters and target caterpillars, aphids, leafhoppers, beetles, spiders -- really, anything they can catch, even prey much larger than themselves. Once they spot a victim, they uncoil their weapon -- and what a weapon it is.

It's a long, jointed proboscis or beak that works like a hypodermic needle. The assassin bug keeps it curved beneath its head when not in use. But when the dinner bell rings, it straightens out the beak and plunges it into its next meal. Toxin paralyzes the victim, while digestive juices turn its insides into goo that the assassin bug sucks out. Mmmm-mmmm, good.  

Unlike most insects, assassin bugs produce only one generation a year. So if you wipe them out through indiscriminate spraying, you're nuking your garden's own troops. Assassin bugs are harmless to people unless you're dumb enough to handle one. In that case, you may find yourself on the receiving end of a painful bite. The worst offender in this regard is the largest assassin bug (show below), called the wheel bug. Named for its wheel- or sawblade-shaped crest, it won't hesitate to bite you too. (Remember the gross scene from "Starship Troopers" where the smart bug shoves its beak into the head of a trooper and sucks out his brain? It's kinda like that.)

This morning, I spotted a little juvenile assassin bug (like the green one eating dinner pictured above) on my red coleus, so I took his picture (below) to show you the relative size.

I sometimes spot assassin bugs in the house too, inevitably having hitched a ride on a plant brought in. Each time, I carefully coax them to crawl onto a piece of paper and take them outside to my garden. My plants could use some more assassins. How about yours?

Thanks to Steve, motleypixel, clicksy, and accent on eclectic for the cool pix.

Crepe murder -- the odious and ignorant practice of chopping these graceful trees into ugly stumps each spring -- doesn't make them look bad in one season. The horror carries over into summer when they bloom. These photos show what I mean.

Back in March, in "Vote for Your Favorite Crepe Murder," Grumpy presented a beastly array of formerly attractive crepe myrtles that had een savagely disfigured by incorrect pruning and asked you to choose the finest (actually, worst) example. Here's the unlucky winner.

Now let's look at what happened when this unfortunate victim bloomed this summer. 

See? As a result of severe pruning, numerous whiplike branches sprouted from the ends of the stumps. Far too weak to hold up the heavy flower clusters, the whips sag to the ground, looking sadder than Lindsay Lohan after her sentence.

If your crepe myrtle looks like this, you need to do two things. First, don woolen underwear for the rest of the summer. Consider it penance. Second, do some remedial pruning this fall after the plant's leaves have dropped. Prune off all but 1-2 whips that sprouted from the end of each stump. These will become the new main branches. For the next 3 years, keep pruning off any new shoots that sprout from the ends of the stumps except for these that you've already spared. At the end of this time, your crepe myrtle will be beautiful once again.