I'd like to be crowned King of the World. I'd like to fly like a bird. I'd like to bathe in Balvenie DoubleWood Single Malt Scotch Whisky. And I'd like to grow a blue rose. Unfortunately, none of these things is likely to happen.

Especially the "blue rose." Plant breeders have been working for decades to introduce a truly blue rose, which is about the only color they don't come in (there's even a green rose). But the only place I've ever seen a blue rose is in those ads they run in the Sunday supplements where every single bloom has been obviously colored sky-blue by some stupid printer who has never seen a rose. 

Now, there actually is something called a "blue rose." That's the nickname for an old hybrid multiflora rambler whose real name is 'Veilchenblau' ("veil of blue" in German). It's quite beautiful in bloom and offers colors you rarely see. Trouble is, none of those colors is true blue.

 'Veilchenblau' rose in my front garden today.

This rose bears stunning clusters of literally hundreds of blooms over a period of a couple of weeks in mid-spring. New, quarter-size blossoms of purple-maroon change to silver dollar-size blossoms of grayish-blue, a color I might also describe as varicose-vein blue or the color people turn when they foolishly decide to swim in the vast Bering Sea.

'Veilchenblau' is called a rambler for a reason with has nothing to do with those terrible old American Motors cars my father kept buying.

1958 Rambler. Dig those space-age tail fins and headlights that hit before the bumper does!

This rose is classified as a rambler because it grows faster than Senator Arlen Spector abandons his principles. Ten feet a year is no problem. The thing even grows during mild stretches in winter! Last year, one cane nearly pried the downspout off of my house. In a fit of pique, I cut it way back and then sprayed it with Roundup. Execution completed. 

The rose suffered for a while, sending out these sickly, distorted leaves. I thought it was near the end, when whoa!! A normal shoot started growing.Then another. By the end of summer, several canes were 8 feet long. This spring they bloomed. 

If you'd like a rose that reminds you of your grandmother's legs every spring, you can order one from the Antique Rose Emporium. Or you can root a cutting or layer a lower branch of a friend's plant (it's easy). Meanwhile, I'll keep searching for the true blue rose and pricing a bathtub filled with Balvenie.

Does the current economic downturn have you singing the blues? Then do I have the tree for you! Not only does it have pretty blue flowers, but it also grows faster than Barney Frank's datebook, and its wood is so valuable people that steal huge trees in the dead of night! So if you're tired of slumming it in a 7,000 square-foot house -- too embarrassed to have people over -- plant a farm of empress trees and you'll soon be hot-tubbing with T. Boone Pickens!

Many years ago, I had this very same idea as an unemployed college graduate, at a time when the economy looked just as promising as today's. I was a history major, and while the vast majority of intelligent Americans were frantic to hear me recount the thrilling epic of the Taft-Harding Pimento Cheese Act, they just wouldn't pay me for it. It was then, while reading the back page of that world renowned scholarly journal, Parade magazine, that I discovered the "miracle tree" that would bring me riches of Solomon.

Empress Tree

Unfortunately, Parade totally missed the point. They extolled empress tree as a miracle shade tree that would grow 10 feet a year and flaunt giant, exotic leaves. You could almost see it grow, provided you have a really, really slow afternoon (like recent history grads often do). But they said nothing about how stinking rich you could become if you cut it down and sold its valuable wood.

Named for Anna Pavlovna, daughter of Czar Paul I, empress tree (Paulownia tomentosa) is native to China, where its wood has been used for more than 1000 years for making furniture, musicals instruments, carvings, pots, bowls, and spoons. The Japanese prize it highly for making sandals (click to see some nice ones). The reasons are that the wood is blond in color, very easy to work, nearly as light as balsa but twice as strong, has a silky feel, and resists insects and decay. Nice trees with straight trunks can fetch thousands of dollars, which is why they're subject to rustling. Many landowners with empress trees on their property have gone to bed with good will towards all, only to discover stumps in the morning and then in fits of rage go off to join a mercenary army.

I didn't have what it takes to be a rustler (a chainsaw and a pickup truck), but I did have a friend with some spare land. So I ordered 24 seedlings from a very disreputable mail-order nursery in Illinois (I won't mention the name. Let's just say it rhymes with "rowan.") They were seedlings all right -- tiny peat peat pots holding 3-day old seedlings that still had only their seed leaves. Most were already dead. When I complained, "Rowan" nursery suggested I give them a year to recover from transplanting shock. I replied that I would give them 30 days to refund my money or I would prosecute them for mail-fraud. They finally relented.

So there went my shot at becoming American royalty. I never did achieve my dream. But others have. A typical empress tree farm looks like this.

Empress trees are incredibly easy to grow. Of course, if you're going to grow them for money, like this, you'll want to give them fertile, well-drained and conscientious pruning. But like catalpa, mulberry, and tree-of-heaven (Ailanthus altissima), it belongs to the garbage can class of trees. Not only does it seed all over creation, but it will grow in absolutely terrible soil where few other trees will. You'll often see it growing on old mining sites, next to railroad tracks, or out of cracks in the pavement or on rocky cliffs. The trees at the top of the page are growing on buried busted-up concrete rubble. If you cut empress tree to the ground in spring, it absolutely will grow 10 feet in a year and sprout gigantic leaves. Lack of cold-hardiness is one limitation, though. Flower buds are usually killed north of the Upper South (Zone 6).

If you, like me, dream of being stinking rich and smoking Cubans in the hot-tub with T. Boone Pickens (wearing a suit), I actually have a good mail-order source for you: Forest Farm. Hey, if you're graduating this spring with a history degree, what have you got to lose?

I love my readers! Recently, in a comment on my recent post, "Great Small Tree for Your Yard", Vikki said she was thinking replacing a "coveted mimosa" with a Chinese fringetree. I replied that coveting mimosa was like coveting Camilla Parker-Bowles.

Well, today faithful Grumpian, Jean, called my attention to a fascinating story involving the Duchess of York. Apparently, Camilla was preparing to attend a funeral in East Sussex when nature called. So she popped into the Hare and Hounds pub in Framfield and asked to use the toilet. Extremely excited proprietors Razai and Chris Azerkane were flushed with joy and pride. In fact, the two are still in such a swirl, they're auctioning off the toilet seat! 

"Rarely has a toilet seat borne the weight of a nation more gracefully," proclaimed British foreign minster, John Loo. "This is a testimony not only to the seat, but to all the Bowles as well."

According to reports, the incident royally impressed the Queen. Her Higness now believes that in the course of time, the Duchess will be worthy to descend to the throne.  

You Ask, I Answer

OK, I know some of you feel cheated when you come to this site and all you find is stuff about Camilla, So here's a real gardening question about a mystery plant.

Hi Steve!

This is the mysterious plant I was given as a gift this week.  I am attaching two pictures of it--one from a distance and one close up.  If you tell me it is just a green plant that needs a little water and a little sun, I swear to you that I will cry. Lianne

 Lianne, I have conclusively identified the plant in the photo. It is named "houseplant."
 
Sorry, I was just being mean. Actually, what you have is a Chinese evergreen (Aglaonema modestum 'Silver Queen'). It is one of the easiest houseplants to grow, because it tolerates low indoor light and low humidity. The soil should be well-drained and moist, but never soggy. The one thing it doesn't like is temps below 50 degrees, which will cause brown spots on the leaves. If the plant ever gets too big, you can clip out the top of the central stalk and new growth will ensue.
Grumpy

If your dogwoods are dying, your crabapples are eaten up with tent caterpillars, and you're just plain sick of Bradford pears, here's a tree you should plant instead -- the beautiful Chinese fringetree.

This one graces one of the ponds at our Southern Living headquarters in Birmingham. Pretty spectacular, isn't it? Actually, it's just one of about a half-dozen such trees planted alongside a breezeway that connects two of our buildings. I braved monstrous waves and giant squids to bring you this captivating picture.

Look for my hair-raising adventures on the Discovery Channel.

Many folks in the Southeast know our native fringetree (Chionanthus virginicus), also called grancy graybeard. Beards of fleecy, white flowers dangle beneath its branches in mid-spring. Well, its Chinese cousin (C. retusus) is even showier, because its slightly fragrant flowers lay atop the oval, glossy-green leaves and appear 1-2 weeks earlier. Some people compare it to a big, white lilac. 

Like native fringetree, this one has both male and female trees. Good luck finding them identified at the nursery though. Males have showier flowers (of course), but females develop clusters of dark-blue, olivelike fruits that are quite ornamental and favored by birds.

Chinese fringetree grows 15-20 feet tall and wide and is not fussy at all. Just give it full sun and well-drained soil. It isn't bothered by pests (other than those talking heads on CNN), it rarely needs pruning, and it tolerates heat and drought. It's available at many garden centers, but if you can't find it near you, you can order it through the mail from Digging Dog Nursery and Fairweather Gardens.

Six Plants I Can't Live Without Follow-Up

I hope all Grumpians enjoyed (and continue to enjoy) our recent Blogathon Across America, "The Six Plants I Can't Live Without." Thanks to all the other bloggers who participated -- Pam (Digging), Judy (Diggin' It), Cameron (Defining Your Home Garden), Helen (Gardening With Confidence), Frances (Fairegarden), Meems (Hoe and Shovel), Jim and Sharon (Fresh Dirt), and Carolyn (Sweet Home and Garden Chicago). Let's do it again sometime -- maybe on the six plants we wish we could grow?

Grumpians, what six plants if eliminated from the Universe would drive you to the brink of despair? That is the monumental question I and other bloggers from around the country wrestle with this week. Read my list below, then click on the links to read the other blogs. Don't agree with our choices? Tell us yours!

1. Native Azaleas—Evergreen azaleas from Japan and China may be more popular than federal bail-outs, but give me our deciduous native azaleas every time. Each spring, I marvel at their grace, beauty, range of flower colors, and sweet fragrance. If God has made better plants, I have yet to meet them.The flowers shown above belong to Piedmont azalea (Rhododendron canascens), which is quite common in our Alabama woods. My garden also contains Florida flame azalea (R. austrinum), Alabama azalea (R. alabamense), Oconee azalea (R. flammeum), and the summer-blooming plumleaf azalea (R. prunifolium). Go native, Grumpiana! 

2. Narcissus—Tulips may be gaudier and come in more colors, but daffodils and jonquils are the best garden bulbs for the South -- period. They come back year after year, rodents don't eat them, and many naturalize and spread to form drifts. Because they live so long with so little care, many become heirlooms passed from generation to generation. You can't say that about tulips. And the simple fact is this -- no other plant signals spring is nigh better than the earliest, cheery yellow daffodils. On my list of favorite Narcissus -- 'Avalon,'  'Bell Song,' 'Falconet,' 'Geranium,' 'Hawera,' 'Ice Follies,' 'Intrigue,' 'Jetfire,' 'Minnow,' 'Quail,' and 'Trevithian.'

3. Spanish moss—Like gray shawls draping the shoulders of old women, the long, airy beards of Spanish moss are the South's most iconic symbol. I remember growing up in Maryland and returning with bags filled with with this ephiphyte from our trips to the Carolinas. We knew Spanish moss wouldn't survive winter up there and also needed moisture to survive, so we hung it in our laundry room. Too bad we forgot it also needs light. Spanish moss loves the lowlands and always grows its lushest near the water where the air hangs heavy like wet towels. It prefers certain trees over others -- you often see it dangling from branches of live oaks, magnolias, and cypresses, but hardly ever from pines. Thanks to global warming, it's now thriving in a neighbor's tree in Birmingham.

4. Lenten rose (Helleborus orientalis)—This is one of those plants I love because it gives me what no other plant does -- about two months of blooms beginning in early February. Eat your hearts out, Wisconsin cheeseheads! Hybridizers have come up with a dazzling array of new colors and floral patterns, but I'm content with the simple white and rose. The evergreen foliage is pretty year-round, the plant is carefree and tolerates drought, and seedlings provide many new plants. In my opinion, this and hosta are the top two perennials for shade. But since everyone (including bin Laden) grows hostas, I'm picking this. 

5. 'Antares' mum—Haven't heard of this flower? There's no reason that you should. It's an old, unidentified, passalong mum that I named for the first-magnitude, red giant star in the constellation Scorpio. It's a tall, floppy mum that will grow up a trellis if you let it and it also spreads by roots. It blooms very late, often not until mid-November. My father got it from his cousin, Welcome, many years ago in Maryland. Then I transplanted a clump to my house in Alabama. Each time it blooms, I remember where it came from. Wherever I end up, I'm taking it with me. My wife can come too.

6. Kudzu—Maybe I was wrong about Spanish moss. Maybe this vine is the South's most iconic symbol. It grows over a much wider range. Heck, it grows over just about everything. Brought to the South for erosion control, cattle feed, and shade for porches, kudzu (Pueraria lobata) has been much reviled for covering the world like Sherwin-Williams. But it has its good side -- every part of the plant is edible and you just haven't lived until you've relished some deep-fried kudzu leaves. Kudzu is so ingrained in the Southern environment and culture that if it disappeared tomorrow, we wouldn't recognize the place. I mean, what would we use to cover old school buses, rusty propane tanks, and abandoned houses? Kudzu, we need you now more than ever. 

Check Out These Excellent Blogs for More Plants Folks Can't Live Without 

Defining Your Home Garden. Written by Cameron in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

Digging. Written by Pam in Austin, Texas.

Diggin' It. Written by Judy in Boston, Massachussetts.

Fairegarden. Written by Frances in somewhere in Tennessee..

Fresh Dirt. Written by garden editors at Sunset in California and Washington.

Gardening with Confidence. Written by Helen in Raleigh, NC.

Hoe & Shovel. Written by Meems in central Florida.

Sweet Home and Garden Chicago. Written by Carolyn in the Windy City.

Mea culpa! Some of you have written asking what happened to Jim Long's list. It's totally the Grump's fault. I neglected to send him the correct date for the blogathon. You can still read Jim's list in the comments below. Sorry about that, everybody!

When Northerners move to the South, the plant they miss most is lilac. They want to know why they can't buy one or if they can, why it won't bloom.

Here's a typical question about lilac from Jim in northern Florida.

"We live close to Jacksonville and have been looking for a lilac. At one nursery we went to, the guy didn't even know what a lilac was. At another one, they said they don't have them because they won't grow in Florida. I asked him why and he said it was too hot. I can't understand that, because it southeast Kansas we had a lilac in the yard for as long as I can remember and it often gets over 100 degrees there in summer." 

Jim, the problem with lilacs in the South is not how hot it gets in summer. After all, it can get over 100 degrees in Canada. The problem is the duration of the heat and the length of the winter. The majority of lilacs need a long period of winter chill in order to bloom well. Jacksonville is not going to get that. 

There are a few low-chill hybrids that might possibly bloom for you (although I wouldn't bet the farm on it). They include 'Lavender Lady' (it's blooming now in Birmingham), 'Blue Skies,' and 'Angel White.' In the Lower South (Zone 8), you can also grow cutleaf lilac (Syringa laciniata), littleleaf lilacs (S. microphylla 'Superba'), and 'Miss Kim' lilac (S. patula 'Miss Kim'). A good mail-order source for all of these plants is Forest Farm. 

A good substitute for lilacs in the South is lilac chaste tree (Vitex agnus-castus). It has very showy lavender-purple to deep blue flowers in early summer, although the blooms aren't fragrant. I have 'Abbeville Blue' in my yard and the spikes of deep blue flowers are spectacular. Another good one is 'Shoal Creek' with lilac-blue flowers. You can get chaste tree at many garden centers or order them from Forest Farm.

Hey Grumpians! Can any of you grow lilacs? Which ones? 

Photo by B Mully.

Grumpians, a once-in-a-lifetime event is going to happen next week! And you have the extraordinary opportunity to take part! Next Monday, famous and talented garden bloggers from around the country -- including that warm, little fuzzball, moi -- will all reveal "The Six Plants I Can't Live Without."

After revealing my brilliant, obvious, yet sensitive choices, I will link to bloggers from California, Massachusetts, Florida, Illinois, Missouri, North Carolina, Texas, Tennessee, and other diverse locations who are writing on the same topic, so you can see what plants people from different parts of  the country consider absolutely essential. These bloggers will then link to me, so that literally millions of people will be able to discover the Grump's wit, wisdom, and unfathomable humility for the very first time!

You, of course, may disagree with our choices (although I have to tell you in all sincerity that the Grump is never wrong). So post and tell us what favorite plants of yours that we missed.

What plants will my list include?

• Uganda's man-eating marigold?

• 'Golden Flounder,' the world's only apple that tastes like fish? 

• The irresponsible risk vine (Greedus bankus) that slithers its way through every corner of Wall Street and brings our economy to its knees?

Log on to The Grumpy Gardener next Monday, April 20, and find out!!!

Grace. The final frontier. These are the tales of the rose-breeding enterprise. Its continuing mission -- to explore spray-free plants; to seek out new colors and new hybridizations; to boldly go where no rose has gone before!

So what do roses have to do with "Star Trek," only the greatest sci-fi TV series of all time? To find out, you have to go back in time to 1995. (Don't worry, it's easy. We'll just aim the ship at maximum warp directly at the sun, then pull away at the last possible instant, and the resulting mass distortion in space-time will catapult us back 14 years. Nothing to it.)

In 1995, Australian plantsman Anthony Tesselaar (who sounds a lot like Robin Leach) introduced the Flower Carpet roses. These low-growing shrub roses promised excellent disease-resistance and repeated flushes of blooms all summer long. They made quite a splash, but in the Grump's view were misread by the public as being true ground cover plants, which they were not. The white Flower Carpet, in particular, eventually grew to a 4-foot tall mound.

2007 marked the premiere of Flower Carpet -- the Next Generation (see how the "Star Trek" reference ties in?). No, you won't see Counselor Troi parading her cleavage and gigantic extensions around the bridge trying to win back Commander Riker. But you will see new Flower Carpets with new colors, even better disease resistance, low-growing forms, and nonstop blooming from spring through fall. At least that's what the promo material says.

The Doubting Grump takes nothing at face value, so to verify the claims,I talked with Stewart Chandler, Plant Evaluation Specialist with Monrovia, the country's largest wholesale nursery. He works at Monrovia's south Georgia facility in Cairo. "We're about 90 miles from the Gulf, so we get a lot of rain in summer -- about 50 to 60 inches a year," he says. "So when you're talking about developing black spot on roses, we certainly have the perfect environment for that."

Stewart doesn't baby the plants he's testing. "The first year, I don't spray and I don't prune very much," he says. "I want the plant to show me its real value."

And the Next Generation has. "They start blooming very early in the spring and don't stop the cold makes them stop," he states. "I've actually had them flowering right up to Christmas."

The first NG Flower Carpet introduced was Scarlet in 2007, followed by Pink Supreme in 2008. The new one this year is Amber. I love the color -- peachy yellow -- which is so revealing of my insight, because the Pantone Color Institute has named this color, Pantone #14-0838, the 2009 Color of the Year. Only they call this color "Mimosa." No way, Pantone. Everybody in the South knows a mimosa is pink.

Amber grows into a mounding shrub about 3 feet tall and wide. The other two are lower growing and more prostrate. They're not immune to black spot, like 'Knockout' is, but when growing well are quite resistant. "If I gave 'Knockout a "10," I'd probably rate these an "8," says Stewart.

With Monrovia doing the growing, the Next Generation should be available at garden centers everywhere this spring. So make your heading 1051mark2 at Warp 3. Engage!

That's a lesson I learned the hard way when I ran out of beer and hopped on my riding mower to go fetch some more. Please learn from my mistake. Click on the arrow.

Now I know what you're gonna say -- I should have knowed better than to drive down the road on a mower without proper tags and with an open container in my vee-HICK-el. But you don't live with my wife, Rhonda. When she wants a beer, you best get her one.

After the state took away my mower license and made me attend those riding mower safety classes, I can see the error of my ways. But shoot, after getting sprayed in the face by that officer, I'm happy to see just about anything.

Here are three lessons I learned from this that you can learn from too:

1. Don't drink and mow.

2. Know your rights.

3. Sometimes it's better to just get stabbed in the face.

As always, the generous Grump is here to answer your most perplexing garden questions. Here's one about forsythia from Pam Nichols:

Hi! I have three large forsythia that are about 20 years old.  They are in full sun and have not been trimmed in a couple of years.  The last two years they have had no blooms (well, maybe three flowers in all).  What am I doing or not doing wrong?  Help!

If your shrubs are 20 years old, I would say they are prime candidates for a technique called renewal pruning. This involves in cutting 1/3 of the oldest, woodiest canes to the ground every year for three years. Do this immediately after the forsythia finishes blooming. This will remove the old, tired growth and promote new, vigorous growth with lots of flowers. Don't prune in summer, fall, or winter or you'll cut off flower buds for next spring. In 3 years, you'll have brand new shrubs.

Some people advocate renewing shrubs like forsythia (also called yellow bells) by cutting them completely to the ground after they bloom. I think this is a little drastic, unless your shrubs are very overgrown.

Renewal pruning can also be used to rejuvenate the following shrubs:

1. Beauty bush (Kolkwitizia amabilis)

2. Fuzzy deutzia (Deutzia scabra)

3. Dwarf flowering almond (Prunus glandulosa)

4. Japanese kerria (Kerria japonica)

5. Lilac (Syringa sp.)

6. Spirea (many kinds)

7. Weigela (Weigela florida)

8. Winter honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima)

9. Mockorange (Philadelphus sp.) 

News flash!! Sandra Jonas In Georgia just sent me this organic farmer's recipe for protecting his fruit trees against frost, in case you're worried about your plants tonight.

"I know many of you have plants that have already budded. I read in A. F. Beddoe’s book Nourishment Home Grown, about a recipe he uses to protect his newly budded trees in the spring. I plan to do this tonight and tomorrow on my blueberry, pear and plum trees that I cannot cover. I thought I’d pass this on to you just in case you wanted to try it too.

Here’s the recipe:

1 pound Ivory Snow

½ pound high calcium lime

Mix in 5 gallons of water.

He says to mix well and agitate while spraying to keep the sprayer from clogging up.

He says to spray to cover all blossoms and stems. You will know it is well covered because the stems will be white. This will dry on the tree and form a plastic-like covering that protects the tree from losing moisture and heat and keep it from freezing."

May the force, not the frost, be with you.

Most of the plants we buy at garden centers come in black plastic pots. After a while, you accumulate so many you could build your own Tower of Babel.

So what do you do when your garden center doesn't want them, the recycler won't take them, and town ordinances don't allow pagan towers? You're stuck. 

Want Want to know where Southern gardening began? Then do what I'm doing now. Come to Charleston, South Carolina. Many of the iconic plants so essential to our style of gardening first appeared here. Like Southern Indica azaleas, for instance.

Meet Taylor Drayton Nelson and his uber-friendly German shepherd, Isis. Taylor is the latest in a long line of Draytons that have been in South Carolina since pretty much the beginning of time. He's the head honcho at Magnolia Plantation and Gardens, just across the Ashley River from Charleston. Magnolia bills itself as the "the South's last romantic garden." I was without female accompaniment, so I can't vouch for the romantic part. But it was here that Southern Indica azaleas (the big azaleas that can grow 6-10 feet tall) first appeared in the mid-1800's. Many of the original azaleas remain and their progeny graces gardens throughout the South.

Swarms of tourists descend upon Magnolia Gardens at the height of the spring bloom, which this year, is right now. The spectacle of azaleas, wisteria, and dogwood flowers reflected in the inky mirror of a cypress pond is breathtaking. I guess that's where the romance comes in. Taylor is working to restore the gardens to their original look, showcasing these plants in a naturalistic setting. He and camellia and azalea guru, Tom Johnson, are also researching the many old camellias and azaleas in the gardens and attempting to identify them from old records, so they can be propagated and saved for future generations. Taylor showed me a weathered, hand-written notebook, well over a century old, that lists many of the plants found at Magnolia. Paging though it is like taking a trip through time.

I first visited Magnolia Plantation and Gardens about 25 years ago while on a trip with my brother down the East Coast to Florida. We were given a tour by the previous owner, the late Drayton Hastie, who passed away a few years ago. Drayton's ashes are entombed in a box inserted about 20 feet up into the trunk of a large live oak. He said from there he could keep an eye on the gardens to see that Taylor did things right.

I think right now he's smiling.