What's the stupidest name you've ever heard of for a plant? For me, it's a redbud called 'Forest Pansy.' Every time I hear it, I think of Richard Simmons sweatin' with the Ewoks.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Now let me be straight about this. I like our native Eastern redbud (Cercis canadensis). In fact, it's one of the Grump's favorite trees, because it's easy to grow; has few serious pests; tolerates drought; and bears very showy -- almost electric -- pink, white, or rosy-purple flowers in spring before the leaves appear. A Southwestern form, Texas redbud (C. canadensis texensis), is even more more drought-resistant due to a waxy coating on its leaves. It also thrives in alkaline soils. Both make great lawn and patio trees and prefer full to partial sun.

But until 'Forest Pansy' came along, redbuds were all about flowers. Not anymore. Take a look.

The leaves of this cutie emerge a rich deep-purple. In areas with mild temperatures, they retain this color pretty much all summer. Here in Alabama, they hold it until it gets hot in mid-June, whereupon they fade to burgundy-green.   

I don't like too many purple-leafed trees (for example, 'Thundercloud' flowering plum is a plague upon the suburbs that should be stricken from the Earth), but 'Forest Pansy' redbud is a winner. If only they would change the moronic, sissified name.

Listen, marketers, this tree wasn't found in a forest and it doesn't look like a pansy. So come up with something better. How about 'Purple Passion?' 'Purple Rain?' 'Grape Expectations?' 'Sherry Baby?' 'Merlot Choreographer?'

Anything but 'Forest Pansy.'

What do you think, Grumpians? What are some of the stupidest names you've ever heard of for plants?

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Need a good mail-order source for all sorts of redbuds? Try Sooner Plant Farm. Tell 'em Grumpy sent you. They'll say, "Who's that?"

 

Many of you are asking: "Will the rain ever stop?" So I consulted Jim Cantore, Gonzo Hurricane Chaser and Prophet of Doom for the Weather Channel. The answer is, "No. It's going to rain every day until the last vestige of Earth disappears under the water on December 21, 2012. Get your end-of-days plan ready."

The scene above was the Grump's croquet court just two weeks ago. Oh, how I loved quaffing sherry while hobnobbing among the wickets with my high and mighty society friends who wouldn't be seen with the likes of you! But now it's just another malarial swamp choked by weeds and patrolled by water moccasins. And I was on the verge of beating the tar out of Prince Charles and Warren Buffett!

Now a lot of people will undoubtedly be depressed to learn that it's going to rain every single day for the rest of their lives. But I say it all depends on how you look at it. Is the glass half-full or is it filled to overflowing? If it's the latter, put on a happy face and fill your world with wonderful water-loving plants to brighten your day for the remaining three or so years we all have left. Here are some trees, shrubs, flowers, and bulbs you should plant right now between bolts of lightning.

The Grump's Favorite Trees for Wet Soil

1. Bald Cypress (Taxodium distichum) *

2. Sweet bay (Magnolia virginiana)

3. Red or swamp maple (Acer rubrum)

4.  Water tupelo (Nyssa aquatica) *

5. Sycamore (Plantanus occidentalis)

* Tolerates submerged roots

Fave Shrubs for Wet Soil

 Virginia sweetspire -- spring bloom

1. Buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidetalis) *

2. Summersweet (Clethra alnifolia)

3. Virginia sweetspire (Itea virginica)

4. Wax myrtle (Myrica cerifera)

5. Winterberry (Ilex verticillata) *

* Tolerates submerged roots

Beauteous Boggy Bloomers

Cardinal flower -- hummingbird favorite

1. Cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis) *

2. Crinum lily (Crinum sp).

3. Ginger lily (Hedychium sp.)

4. Ironweed (Vernonia sp).

5. Japanese primrose (Primula japonica)

6. Joe-Pye weed (Eupatorium pupureum)

7. Pitcher plant (Sarracenia sp,)

8. Canna (Canna sp.) *

9. Texas star (Hibiscus coccineus) *

10. Yellow flag (Iris pseudacorus) *

* Will tolerate submerged roots

Water Hyacinth Warning!!

Once you know the whole world is going to drown, invasive plants don't seem that big a deal. Nonetheless, I am honor bound by my sacred oath sworn before the Order of the Pink Flamingo to warn you about those pretty lilac-colored flowers floating on the water in the shot of my former pleasure garden. They are water hyacinths (Eichhornia crassipes), one of the worst water-loving plants you can inflict on nature. They're OK in an aquarium or birdbath, but releasing them into the wild where they're cold-hardy (Zone 7 and below) is like setting loose Charlie Sheen in the showgirls' dressing room. Things get out of control. Water hyacinths multiply incredibly fast and eventually cover large bodies of water. The sweep of them above probably started from a single plant some jerk threw out about 15 minutes ago.     

I will never forget the time my older brother was describing the color of swans to my young son.

"They're white, just like my teeth," said my brother.

"Your teeth are yellow," countered my son.

Well, there just isn't any way to recover from that.  

Yellow teeth remind me of the biggest failure of gardenia. It's almost impossible to photograph one in full bloom where all of the flowers look nice, bright, and white. Older flowers turn yellow as new white ones unfurl. It's like gazing at an ear of yellow-and-white corn. Could someone not invent some gardenia whitening strips?

Don't get me wrong. I love gardenia (Gardenia jasminoides), also known as Cape jasmine. No plant better expresses the grace and beauty of the South. 

How the plant acquired both its common and botanical names is an interesting story to those who find such things interesting. According to James Cothran's Gardens and Historic Plants of the Antebellum South (a totally excellent reference the Grump highly recommends), "Cape" refers to the Africa's Cape of Good Hope, where the shrub was thought to have originated. In fact, it hails from China. "Jasmine" is a misnomer too. After gardenia found its way to England in 1754, Phillip Miller, author of the Gardener's Dictionary, mistakenly classified it as a jasmine. Twit. Just because it smells good, I guess.

In 1758, John Ellis, an English merchant and naturalist, visited Richard Warner's garden near London to see an exciting new plant with fragrant, double, white flowers brought from Africa by a sea captain. Ellis sent a specimen to his friend, Carolus Linnaeus, the renowned Swedish botanist and creator of horticulture's's system of binomial nomenclature. (Without Linnaeus, we would have no tree named Metasequoia glyptostroboides. Think about that!) This system assigns every plant a genus name and species name. There is a similar system for animals. For example, the scientific name for the Grumpy Gardener is Hunkiness maximus.

Linnaeus planned to name the shrub Warneria,but Ellis would have none of it. He'd been obtaining American native plants from Dr. Alexander Garden, a well-known physician in Charleston, South Carolina. Ellis insisted the new shrub be named Gardenia. After protesting that Garden would be more appropriately honored by naming a new American plant after him, Linnaeus relented. 

The first gardenias to make it to America appeared in Dr. Garden's garden in 1762. Unfortunately, none of the plants survived for long. Maybe Dr.Garden treated them with leeches. Maybe they didn't have medical insurance. More gardenias soon arrived, however. The first gardenias offered for sale that we know of were listed in John Bartram's Catalogue of Trees, Shrubs, and Herbaceous Plants in 1807. (Hmmm.....wonder if Bradford pear and golden euonymus were included?) Once people smelled the flowers, gardenias were a smash hit.

I cannot think of a single plant more sensuously fragrant than gardenia. The fragrance is heavy, intoxicating, almost overpowering at times. One bloom can perfume a room.

Being old school, I prefer the large, double-flowered varieties whose flowers make perfect corsages, like 'First Love,' 'August Beauty,' 'Miami Supreme,' and 'Mystery.' For some reason, single-flowered types like 'Kleim's Hardy' (shown above) have gained favor in recent years for their open, star-shaped blooms. Frankly, I think they look weird. 

Nope, for my money, I'll take the old-fashioned doubles every time. Until they turn yellow.

What Gardenia Needs

Light: Full to partial sun

Soil: Moist, well-drained, acid (in alkaline areas, grow it in a pot)

Prune: Immediately after flowering

Pests: White fly, mealybugs, scale, spider mites (more serious if grown indoors)

Hardiness: Hardy outside to Zone 7. At 0 degrees, may die to the ground and come back.

Propagation: Cuttings root easily in summer; I have a plant from Margaret Mosely in Decatur, Georgia that she says she started from a cutting rooted in water. Who knew?

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!!! CELEBRATE FREEDOM WITH A GARDENIA MARGARITA!!!

Sometimes in order to get people to do something good, you have to make them understand what's bad. With that thought in mind, I've selected five of the worst things you can plant in front of your house. Some are ugly; some are monstrous; some get bugs and disease; and some manage to do all of these things.

Undoubtedly, some of you have these plants in front of your house and will shortly be greatly offended. That's OK. Feel free to make disparaging remarks about my worthless, parasitic cat. He won't know. He can't read (though he does watch TV). Kinda like Rick Sanchez on CNN.

Awfulest of the Awful -- Golden Euonymus

If you plant this in front of your house, you probably gave your girlfriend a pop-top for an engagement ring. I used to call golden euonymus a "gas station plant," until gas stations cleaned up their act and substituted plastic palms. Plants like this do nothing for the housing market. They are a sign that says, "For Sale by People with Absolutely No Taste."

So what's wrong with golden euonymus (Euonymus japonicus' Aureomarginatus')? Let me count the ways:

1. Mildew and scale eat it up.

2. The foliage often reverts to green, so you wind up with a bush that's half green and half yellow.

3. The garish foliage is about as subtle as a working girl's wardrobe. 

4. Out-to-lunch people pair it with 'Rosy Glow' barberry, a look much favored by legendary garden designer Ernest T. Bass.

Awful Plant #2 -- Bradford Pear 

Every Grumpian should have seen this one coming. I hate Bradford pear (Pyrus calleryana 'Bradford')! It's everywhere. Bragging about having one in your front yard is like bragging you have a toilet in your house. 

This is why I despise it:

1. It gets too big for the average yard -- 50 feet high and 40 feet wide. The only excuse for planting a row of them is if you're trying to block the view of a highway overpass.

2. Surface roots and dense shade makes it impossible to grow grass beneath it. Of course, if you've already blacktopped your yard, this won't be a problem.

3. Weak branching structure makes it very prone to storm damage. Photograph it when it's pretty. It won't stay that way long.

4. Its spring flowers smell like fish.

5. Although its flowers are self-sterile, they can cross-pollinate with other selections of callery pear, such as 'Aristocrat' and 'Cleveland Select.' When they do, they produce thousands of tiny pears, which give rise to thousands of thorny seedlings are are now invading the countryside.   

Awful Plant #3 -- Redtip Photinia

Now I know what a lot of you are saying. "How can he hate such a purty plant? I love those shiny red leaves and the white flowers. What a churlish Grump!"

Here's my beef with redtip, AKAFraser photinia (Photinia x fraseri):

1. Like Bradford pear, it's planted everywhere in the South. Find me a trailer park, parking lot, or chain-link fence without one. It's about as common as clipping your toenails during the sermon.

2. It grows fast and big -- up to 15 feet tall and wide, much too big for the front of your house, unless you're hiding from the law. So you have to shear it often, which brings us to problem #3.

3. Most people grow it for the bright red new leaves that gradually turn green. The more you prune, the more red leaves you get. Trouble is, the new growth is extremely susceptible to a disfiguring disease, called Entomosporium leaf spot. Unless you spray regularly with a fungicide, the disease eventually kills the plant -- which, come to think of it, isn't so bad.

Awful Plant #4 -- Leyland Cypress

Very few people who plant this monster have any idea how big it gets -- more than 70 feet tall and up to 15 feet wide. And because it can easily grow 3 feet a year, it doesn't take long to resemble a Saturn 5 rocket. Still, people love planting this thing on the corner of the house. The only house big enough for this is Biltmore.

In recent years, Leyland cypress (x Cupressus leylandii) has come under widespread attack by a potentially fatal fungus, seridium canker, which often causes trees to gradually die from the top down.Drought stress  favors development of this disease.

Awful Plant # 5 -- Privet

I know a guy named Dr. Dirt who calls these shrubs "privy plants." He doesn't know how right he is. I'll admit that some of the broadleaf species, such as waxleaf privet (Ligustrum lucidum) and Japanese privet (L. japonicum) have some use in the landscape as limbed-up trees, but the small-leaf hedging types, such as California privet(L. ovalifolium) and Chinese privet (L. sinense) are absolute garbage that belong in a privy.  

Many people refer to privet by its botanical name, Ligustrum. A more accurate name is "Disgustum." How come?

1. In spring, privet produces white flowers, whose sickeningly sweet odor reminds me of the deadly dikironium cloud creature on "Star Trek."  To be fair, the cloud killed people by robbing their blood of iron. Privet flowers just cause allergies.

2. The flowers give rise to hundreds of blue-black berries relished by birds, who spread them all over the universe. As a result, privets are incredibly invasive and weedy. Plus, they grow really fast and need trimming about every two minutes or they'll swallow your house and dog. 

Now here's the weird thing. Of all the variegated plants in the world, I think variegated Chinese privet (show above) is one of the better-looking. In fact, it's perfect for next to your privy. But if I could snap my fingers and make all the privet in the world disappear, I would. I'd do the same for spammers.  

....if there's a letter and an IV. I planted cactus around my mailbox. Now you look like a case of smallpox.

You'd better wait a minute, wait a minute, oh yeah.....

Grumpians, ever since I saw this scene across the street from my friend, Jeff, I couldn't wait to show you. Ever get mad when your National Geographic gets torn or you get all your neighbor's spanking magazines by mistake? (I hope it was a mistake.) This is how you get even.

Meet prickly pear cactus (Opuntia compressa), the most widespread cactus in America and as far as I know, also the cold-hardiest. It will grow in south Florida, west Texas, the Nevada desert, and even in Canada. I'll never forget the time I was touring the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum (a great place -- don't miss the chance to see it if you're visiting) in winter and spied plain, old prickly pear cactus peaking out from beneath the snow. 

Prickly pear gets its name from two features. The first is the tufts of barbed, hairlike spines, called glochids, that cover its flattened pads. Glochids detach on contact, remaining in your flesh to torture you as long as possible. The second is the pearlike, 2-inch long, edible fruits that turn reddish-purple when they ripen. Showy yellow flowers precede the "pears" in early summer. Flower buds are just forming on the plant above.

It wasn't until I carefully perused the Hispanic food section of our local Wal-Mart that I discovered that not only are the fruits consumed in Mexico, so are the pads. While I'm sure the pads are delicious, I prefer food that's as spineless as I am.

A lot of people plant prickly pear to add a "desert touch" to their garden for some unexplainable reason. Why stop there? Complete the picture with some big rocks,  a rusted out auto body, a couple of scorpions, and a "Next Gas 100 Miles" sign. 

Few plants are as easy to grow. All it needs is sun and well-drained soil -- either moist or dry. A clump can eventually grow 4 feet tall and twice as wide. Dual methods of reproduction are why it grows almost everywhere. One method is having seeds spread when animals eat the fruits. The other and more insidious method is vegetative. Every once in a while, a pad will break off, fall to the ground, and root. Or perhaps an animal will carry off a pad and drop it, where it will root. Either way, prickly pear quickly traverses the landscape. In many places, it's considered an invasive weed. 

If you have no need to punish your thoughtful, dedicated postal worker ("Neither rain or snow or wind or spines of prickly pear will keep us from our appointed rounds."), there is another good place to plant it, especially if break-ins have been a problem for you. Plant it under all of your windows. The Grump guarantees no one will enter your house that way again. 

Question -- I have never seen spiders like these, who seem to really like my Japanese Maple.  Are they harmful to tree or humans? Diane

Answer -- Those "spiders" in the other photo aren't spiders. They're predatory insects called assassin bugs that have recently hatched out. They get their name from spearing other bugs with their sharp beaks and sucking out their insides -- kinda like the giant brain-sucking bug in "Starship Troopers."  If you mess with them, they'll spear you too and their bites can be painful. However, they 're considered beneficial because they eat pests like aphids, soft scales, and caterpillars.

Do you have a plant you can't identify? Is there something going wrong with a plant and you don't know why? Send the Grump a photo! He in his awesome and wine-soaked wisdom will search his vast memory banks to provide an answer. If he can't, you've stumped the Grump!

Our first challenge comes from Claire, who writes, "I need help from the Grump [like who doesn't?]. I bought several packets of heirloom seeds from Lowe's last year and planted them. Last year, no blooms. The leaves survived the winter and now the plants are blooming. I have no idea what the blooms are. Any ideas?"

Thank you, Claire, for presenting the Grump with such a feeble challenge on this first installment of "Stump the Grump." The flowers are foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea), one of spring's most spectacular and exotic-looking bloomers. Spikes of spotted, bell-shaped blossoms in colors of purple, rose, white, and pastels may stand 5 feet tall. Hummingbirds like them, but deer don't.

Foxgloves are short-lived perennials, which the Grump treats as biennials. That means they grow leaves the first year, bloom and set seed the second year, and then die. Foxgloves occasionally live longer, but from my experience, after the bloom spider mites eat them up and you have to pull them up anyway. So if you want more foxgloves next spring, you have to plan new plants this year. You can either start plants from seed this spring or set out transplants in the fall.

This was the question posed to me by the Dolly Llama, a buxom beast with an enormous blond wig. I had journeyed for days to meet her in her mountain hideaway in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, known far and wide as the "Temple of Enlightenment."

"It's a simple question, honey," said the Dolly to me. "Two plants sprout in my garden. One is a weed I will pull up and throw away. Which one is the weed?"

"Ummm, I'd like to use my lifeline," I said meekly.

"This ain't 'Cash Cab,' honey," the Dolly replied. "You have to figure this'n out by your lonesome." 

Oh no. Now I know how W felt when Dick Cheney was in the bathroom and the generals needed to know whether to push that button now. There was only one option. I had to stall.

"So, what do you think about A-Rod and those steroids?" I ventured. "Shoot, what's wrong with a guy raising artificial cows?"

But the Dolly wouldn't bite, which was fortunate, since her gigantic, white canines could do considerable damage. "The Dolly's patience wears thin as her waist," she said menacingly.

I had to be like W -- say the first thing that came into my head.

"The weed is the plant you don't want," I said. "That's what makes it a weed."

"Ah, Grasshopper, you are wise beyond your years," said the Dolly. "Now shoo, honey. I got a semi truck full of lipstick due any minute now."

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My visit with the Dolly Llama came to mind this week as my wife, Judy, and I gazed at our front flower bed overflowing with pink flowers. "Are you going to leave those weeds there?" asked Judy. "Aren't they the ones you see along the highway?"

Well, yeeeessss. Her implication was that any flower that grew by the side of the road was unworthy of a cultivated garden. But these flowers are pretty. Known as pink or prairie primrose (Oenothera speciosa), this perennial wildflower (which is not a true primrose) is native to much of the South. It's 2-inch, pink flowers bloom profusely in late spring and early summer. Then the plant kind of dies down and disappears. But it's sneaky. Not only does it spread by seed, but its insurgent rhizomes slither beneath the soil in all directions until by the following spring, you discover you have almost nothing but primrose.

I didn't plant it. One plant came up and I let it stay. So like communism and Geraldo Rivera, it must be contained. Now I let it bloom in the spring. When it's finished and before it can set seed, I yank up as much of it as I can find. Next spring, I'll have just as much as I had before.

So is it a weed? You tell me. 

I sometimes think it would be cool to build a raised bed and plant one each of the most invasive plants I could find and let them duke it out. I'd plant pink primrose, wild ageratum (Eupatorium coelestinum), horsetails (Equisetum hyemale), gooseneck loosestrife (Lysimachia clethroides), artemisia, common yarrow (Achillea millefolium), chameleon plant (Houttuynia cordata), mint,  tawny daylily (Hemerocallis fulva), bracken (Pteridium aquilinum), ribbon grass (Phalaris arundinacea picta), and Japanese knotweed (Fallopia japonica) and see who emerges victorious. It'd be like gardening on WWF. 

So are they weeds to you? Which one would you bet on?