Everyone loves amaryllis. After it finishes blooming, though, you're probably wondering, "What the heck do I do with it now? Should I just throw it out?"

This was the question posed by Debbie, a curious and obviously committed reader. She writes, "What are the necessary steps to do afterward if you want that same bulb to grow and bloom again?  How many times can you do this process before the bulb  will no longer grow and bloom again? I am a novice with plants, so please give me step by step instruction."

Debbie, you are indeed fortunate. You have contacted the all-knowing Grump, who has been blooming the same amaryllis bulbs year after year. It's easy to do if you follow these steps.

1. After the flowers fade, cut off the bloom stalk. If the pot doesn't have a drainage hole, transplant the bulb to a slightly bigger pot that has one.  Fill the pot with fresh potting soil and plant the bulb so that its top third shows above the soil surface. Your bulb can stay in this same pot for many years.

2. Large, strappy leaves will emerge from the bulb. Place the pot near a bright window until it's warm enough to set the bulb outside. When it is, place the bulb in a sunny spot. Water often enough the keep the leaves firm and prevent them from wilting or turning brown along the edges. Every couple of weeks, feed the bulb using liquid 20-20-20 fertilizer.

3. Continue this practice until September. Then cease feeding and reduce watering to once a week. Come October, stop watering entirely. After the leaves turn yellow, cut them off. Take the pot inside before a frost and place it in a cool, dark area. Ignore it for the next two months.

4. When the two months are up, water once more and wait to see signs of life. If things go well, you should see a big, fat green flower bud emerge from the top of the bulb. At this point, bring the pot and bulb back into the light and begin watering normally. After it finishes blooming, go back to step 1.

One thing you have to know is that amaryllises normally bloom in spring, not in December. The ones that bloom for Christmas are grown in greenhouses to get them to behave that way. If you want amaryllis blooms for Christmas, buy some that are blooming then. The Grump finds it easier to let the bulbs do their own thing.

If you can't kill it in the office, you can't kill it at home. And that's why it doesn't matter whether you know a philodendron from a Philly cheese-steak. You can grow a ZZ plant.

Here's another fascinating question from Jean, a highly observant and faithful reader:

Hi Steve,
Been paying attention to the possumhaw that grows along a fence row on the bypass in town. I have noticed that there are 3 distinct colors of plants. There is one that is a true red, one that is a brighter red, and one that borders on orange. It seems the orange-red one is loaded with berries and looks more weeping -- possibly from the heavy load of berries. I figured most of them would be the same and come from the same plants. I guess I'm wrong. Good grief!

Apparently, these plants appreciate a moist soil..and this one place is the only place I have ever seen them growing in town. They are spaced all along this stretch of road.

I cannot decide which of these plants are the prettiest...the orange really stands out..but then there is the dark red which is beautiful too.

Any Grumpy wisdom?  Jean

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We all know plants produce oxygen, but thrusting my nose into a philodendron never felt refreshing. Well, last weekend I experienced my first oxygen bar and sucked in so much of this life-giving gas that my body threatens to spontaneously combust.

I, along with Southern Living colleagues Gene Bussell and Rebecca Reed, were attending the Tropical Plant Industry Exhibition (TPIE) at Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. It's about the best place in the country to go to see amazing displays of flowering and foliage tropical plants and learn about the hot new plants. In later posts, I'll tell you more about the sensational plants I saw -- bromeliads, succulents, orchids, Tillandsias (yes, I know they're bromeliads too), acres of anthuriums, and a variegated spineless pineapple -- but first want to let you in on a novel GREEN program called "O2 for You."

photo: "I'm not dying. I'm just gaining focus." SB

For years, we've been hearing about the victims of our nation's skyrocketing cost of health care -- the poor, the elderly, the under-served, the unemployed. But what you haven't heard about is how this situation affects the Grump -- especially on a holiday like MLK Day.

You see, the Grump's wife is an operating room nurse in a very fine hospital in Birmingham. She doesn't get holidays off the way the rest of you do. And the reason is, you just won't get sick or injured on a regularly scheduled basis. No, you do it at all hours of the day on every day of the week. Then you expect her to drop everything she's doing, like serving me tillapia with a crisp white wine, to run to the hospital to make you better. This is downright rude.

So today, instead advising Obama on his comprehensive new peat moss policy, I'm sitting at home doing housework. Yes, housework. And it's all your fault.

Here is an account of how I've lowered myself today.

1. Shopped for groceries and catered to all of Judy's preferences.

2. Unloaded the dishwasher and loaded it again.

3. Picked up dirty clothes and did a load of laundry.

4. Folded laundry and put it away.

5. Straightened up the house.

6. Installed insulation in the garage.

7. Broke the toilet seat. (I don't know how that happened. I wasn't doing anything I don't usually do. I guess one big crack deserves another.)

The bottom line is, had I not been so exhausted by cleaning all day as a result of the public's refusal to better plan its hospital visits, our toilet seat would likely have survived. Now we need another one. Can't wait until Judy gets home. She's good at fixing stuff like that.

If you love birds, be sure to read "Beauty Takes Flight' in the February issue of Southern Living. It's the story of Wing Haven Garden & Bird Sanctuary, a beautiful garden specifically designed for birds right in the heart of Charlotte, North Carolina. Here are some tricks I learned there to help you, the enlightened bird-watcher, attract these feathered friends to your garden.

Last night, I got a weird voice-mail message on my cell phone. The operator asked, "Will you accept a collect call from the Correctional Facility in Loxley, Alabama?" Aparently, stupidity is now a jailable offense.

See, the Grump doesn't take collect telephone calls from anybody. If my phone rang and a voice asked, "You have a collect call from a Mr. J.C. in Heaven. Will you accept the charges?", my reflex response would be, "Heck, no! That's long distance!"

And in the Grump's case, that's long, long, long, loooooooooooong distance.

I can only imagine the situation the prisoner was in. Maybe he was being held hostage with a gun to his head. The guy holding it says, "This is the deal. You get to make one collect call. If the person you call accepts the charges, I'll let you go. But if he doesn't, I'm blowing you away. Now -- who you gonna call?"

"Uh, the Grumpy Gardener."

Boom!

But maybe the situation wasn't so dire. Maybe the caller was just a lonely guy searching for a friend. That seems a little strange, seeing as how you're surrounded by "friends" in jail, but maybe none of them knew anything about how to root gardenia cuttings and he just had to know.

So now the Grump's feeling a little guilty. After all, the world could always use a few more gardenias. To atone for my heartlessness, I've written a parody of Jim Croce's old song, "Operator." (If you remember it, you and Methuselah were in kindergarten together.)

Operator

Won't you help me place this call?

You see, the number on this switch blade is old and faded.

He lives in Alabam

He likes okra and fried Spam

He saw it when my meth lab was raided.

But isn't that the way they say it goes?

Well, let's forget all that

And give me Grump's number if you can find it

So I can call just to tell him I'm fine

And to show

I've overcome the blow

I like gardenia's smell

Got Southern Living here

That recipe worked swell

And my cell walls are teal

I like how they make it feel.

"Leatherleaf Mahonia"

Say "fragrant flowers" and what plant pops to mind? Gardenia? Daphne? Rose? Wisteria? Lilac? Good answers all, but there's one very fragrant plant that's all but ignored by the public. Maybe that's because it blooms in winter when only the hardiest (or most bored) venture outside. 

Okay, I've had it. For years, I've stood wimpily by as so-called "experts" and "opinion makers" like those on Garden Rant launch assault after vicious assault on one of our most sacred and treasured institutions -- the family lawn. I can stand by no longer.

photo: Brian Bender faithfully guards a national treasure -- the White House lawn.

People often confuse me with George Clooney, so I know exactly how winter jasmine feels. Just because it's a shrub with pretty yellow flowers, novice gardeners mistake it for forsythia. Read this absolutely compelling story and you'll never make that embarrassing mistake again.