Believe it or not, 100 billion pounds of food -- enough to eliminate hunger in this country -- is thrown away every year. Even more amazing, not all of it is Brussels sprouts.

That's the word from AmpleHarvest.org, a campaign that seeks to reduce hunger in America "by enabling backyard gardeners to share their excess garden produce with neighborhood food pantries."

Just about anyone who's ever grown squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, banana peppers, okra, and other heavy producers knows that there comes a point where a family of four just can't stand any more healthy eating. Squash may be great a couple of times a week, but eat it three times a day and your eyes turn yellow. So you do what anyone whose parents grew up in the Great Depression and lectured you incessantly about "how we couldn't afford to waste food" would do. You fill a paper sack with squash, bring it to work, and try to palm it off on your co-workers

Only guess what. That doesn't work, because each of them is growing squash in their back yard and would rather accept a bag of radioactive waste than a bag of squash. So this extra food gets chucked into the trash or put out in the compost.

Save the Food! Don't Throw It Away!

This is where AmpleHarvest.org comes in. This grass-roots effort -- supported by such organizations as the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the VFW, Catholic Charities, and the Garden Writers of America (to which the Grump proudly belongs) -- seeks to connect backyard gardeners burdened by extra produce with local food pantries where it can be collected and distributed to needy families.

If you go to their website (and I know you will), you can enter your address and zip code to find the food pantry nearest you. You'll even get driving instructions. Food pantries can also register with the site so that people can easily find them.

So if like most Grumpians, you're deeply concerned about world hunger and are such superior gardeners that you grow much more produce than your family can eat, don't throw away the excess, not even the  Brussels sprouts. Contact AmpleHarvest.org put that squash to good use.

People love azaleas almost as much as they love their kids. In fact, a lot of them love them more. Trouble is, most azaleas pack all of their punch into a week or two in spring.Wouldn't it be great if you could grow an azalea that bloomed in summer? You can.

No, I'm not talking about the much-hyped Encore azaleas, which people either love or hate for a variety of reasons. (I'll leave that controversy for another column.) I'm talking about the beauty shown above -- plumleaf azalea (Rhododendron prunifolium). It's blooming in my garden as I write this.  

Native to Georgia and Alabama, plumleaf azalea is the signature plant of Callaway Gardens in Pine Mountain, Georgia. Callaway is the first place I ever saw it blooming. The second was all around our Southern Living headquarters building in Birmingham. Today, I guarantee you that the Grump is the only person in his neighborhood to have one growing at his house. What a gift to humanity I am!

Like all azaleas native to North America, plumleaf azalea is deciduous. It's a steady, but not fast grower, eventually reaching 10 feet tall after many years. It's not the only native that blooms in summer -- others include sweet azalea (R. serrulatum) and swamp azalea (R. viscosum) -- but it's by far the showiest. Large, orange-red to bright-red flowers open in July and August. 

Often when trees and shrubs bloom after the foliage emerges, the flowers are somewhat hidden. That's not the case here. The blossoms sit conveniently atop the foliage. As soon as they fade, pointed  flower buds for next summer's blooms begin to form at the ends of twigs. If you don't see any buds by the time the leaves drop in fall, you won't get any flowers in summer.

What Plumleaf Azalea Needs

1. Moist, acid, well-drained soil containing lots of organic matter

2. Dappled sun/shade (not deep shade or you won't get any blooms)

3. Winter temps above -15 degrees F (that's practically everywhere that matters)

Sources

Better garden centers carry plumleaf and other native azaleas, but if you can't find them locally, here are some good mail-order sources.

1. Mail Order Natives

2. Niche Gardens

3. Woodlanders

The world doesn't know it's August. At least, not in Alabama. We had a very pleasant dinner out on the porch last night. This morning, the temperature is 58 degrees. What is wrong here?

This is August, the cruelest month of all. Eternal, infernal August, where plants and air conditioners go to die. August, where Satan and his minions spend forever in the hot tub.

And yet, this morning is crisp. When have you ever used the words "crisp, August morning" before? Maybe in Iceland. Not in Alabama.

I fear we are just now paying the price for all of those renewable, non-greenhouse gas producing vehicles people have been buying. We've unleashed a runaway train called global cooling. The next Ice Age is upon us.

I realize this view is not PC. According to all the experts, we're all going to burn up as the world gets hotter. But either way, the important point to keep in mind is that we're all doomed. I'm reminded of a poem called "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Birmingham, Alabama. August 2019. Don't say I didn't warn you. Sweater and hot chocolate, anyone?

That tree I saw at Callaway Gardens in Pine Mountain, Georgia shore was pretty -- spectacular sprays of yellow blooms and pretty bright pink seed pods. Koelruteria bipinnata, the sign below it said. Chinese flame tree. So I planted one in my front yard. Baby, I got burned.

A relative of the more widely planted goldenrain tree (Koelruteria paniculata), Chinese flame tree (aka bougainvillea goldenrain tree -- say that 10 times fast) has a lot going for it. It grows fast; produces filtered shade you can grow grass under; tolerates drought, poor soil, and pollution; suffers no serious pests; and becomes a nice, rounded, medium-size tree, 20-40 feet tall. It's also one of the few trees that blooms in summer (mine's blooming now) and produces attractive, pink seed capsules that resemble the blooms of bougainvillea. So what's not to like?

Well, those seed capsules contain seeds. During fall and winter, the papery capsules blow everywhere, bringing the seeds in contact with soil. Every time this happens, every single seed germinates. Let all of them grow and in a couple of years, your entire yard literally becomes a forest of Chinese flame trees.

I find seedlings on every side of my house -- in the lawn, garden beds, and edges of the woods. None are anywhere near the original tree.

So why don't I just cut mine down and be done with it? Because it wouldn't make any difference. See, one of those seedlings sprouted on the corner of my next-door neighbor's house. It's now about 20 feet tall. She loves it. So even if I cut my tree down, there'd be as many seedlings as before.

I feel like a eco-terrorist, like the first remorseless clown who sicced Japanese honeysuckle, privet, water hyacinths, dandelions, and crabgrass on America. Long after I am gone, people in Alabama will point to the 12 Chinese flame trees that just sprouted in their petunias and curse my name."It was Bender!"

DON'T PLANT CHINESE FLAME TREE, NO MATTER HOW PRETTY IT LOOKS! Remember that beautiful female terminator in"Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines"? She turned guys on, then literally ripped out their hearts. Learn from this!!!!!

VA-VA-VA-VOOM!

 
VA-VA-KA-BOOM!

OK, I've done my civic duty and warned you about the dangers of this barbaric tree. What other plants should I warn the faithful citizens of Grumpiana not to plant?

Grumpians are well aware of the many over-the-top promises made every day on TV, radio, newspapers, and our beloved spam. That's why I'm so happy to be continuing that fine tradition right here. I can't answer ALL of your questions in one blog, obviously. But if a misleading title can trick you into reading further, you just may find out what's gone wrong with your crepe myrtle, your lawn, your roses, and the old lady next door who's always dancing by herself.

Crepe Myrtle

With the possible exception of why rosarians shouldn't garden in the nude, no garden issue consumes us more in the summertime than crepe myrtles. Almost everybody has them. Almost everybody has questions, like these:   

"When standing under my crepe myrtle, it sounds like rain is falling, but the sky is blue. Why is that?" -- Neil

Grumpy says -- Well, Neil, the first thing I'd check is whether your crepe myrtle is planted under the open window of a second-story bathroom. If that's not the case, what you're probably hearing are drops of sweet honeydew secreted by aphids sucking juice from the leaves. When this honeydew accumulates on the leaves, ugly black mold often grows on it. A safe way to give aphids the heave-ho is to spray the undersides of the leaves with all-season horticultural oil or insecticidal soap.

"Your Excellency, I live on the beautiful inland sea of Puget Sound [near Seattle]. My 'Zuni' crepe myrtle is planted in a container on a sunny spot on my deck. It's about 4 feet tall and looks healthy, but has no blooms yet. Will it bloom next year?" -- Susan

Grumpy says-- Gee, thanks, Susan, for making us the rest of us feel cursed and inadequate. Do you fly in planes with Richard Branson and lunch with Michelle Obama too? 'Zuni' is one of the Grump's favorite crepe myrtles, forming a vase-shaped shrub to 10 feet tall with gorgeous lavender-purple blooms. Look at it here in Helen Yoest's garden in Raleigh. When a crepe myrtle blooms depends on two things -- genetics and temperature. Some types, like 'Natchez,' bloom quite early. Others, like 'Watermelon Red,' bloom later. High summer temps speed up blooming. If it doesn't reach 90 degrees in lovely Puget Sound until July, your crepe will bloom later. Strangely enough, when I was in Seattle a few weeks ago, it was 103. Now you know how the rest of us live.

"My fairly young 'Natchez' has flowers so large they bend the spindly stalks nearly to the ground. It's worse once they've gone to seed. Any suggestions?" -- Lalagigi 

Grumpy says -- Oh, named after a Pacific island, are you? Flower heads bending over spindly branches usually results from improper pruning, called "crepe murder," in which an uninformed yet well-meaning person with absolutely nothing else to do goes out in winter or spring and cuts the trunks into ugly stubs. Each stub then sends out a forest of long, whip-like branches too weak to hold up the flowers. The solution is to stop murdering your myrtles. Don't cut back the main trunks and the blooms will be held high. You can cut off the seedheads if you wish. 

Lawn Mushrooms

"Yo, Grump, got these low-to-the-ground, brown mushrooms in my yard. I didn't plant them and I don't want them! What are your suggestions for ridding my lawn of these fungi?" -- Rick

Grumpy says -- Well, you could black-top your yard. That'd solve the problem for sure. Mushrooms are the only visible sign of active fungi in the soil that decompose organic matter, like dead tree roots. There is nothing you can do to get rid of the mushrooms until they've fully digested the organic matter -- unless you love the smell of black-top in the morning.

Hydrangeas

"Now that the blooms of my French hydrangeas have faded, should I cut them off? There is new growth on the plants." -- Julia

Grumpy says-- Yes, it's OK to remove the spent blooms. But don't cut back the new growth. Many hydrangeas produce flower buds for next year on this growth. Cut it off now and no flowers later. Exceptions are repeat-bloomers like 'Endless Summer,' 'Pennymac,' and 'All Summer Beauty.'

Gourds and Pumpkins

"Is it too late to plant the decorative gourds and pumpkins? I don't have any seeds, but I guess I can get them at the nursery." -- Sylvia

Grumpy says -- No, you can't, because it's too late to plant them now. Pumpkins and gourds require a long growing season to produce. You'll have to wait to plant next spring. In the meantime, wait until it's dark and swipe some pumpkins from your neighbor's garden.

Shrubs for Screening

"I need a plant that would make a good screen between two homes. My driveway and the neighbor's driveway have 5 feet between them. I would rather not look into his garage every time I leave the house. Do you have any suggestions for this spot that gets full sun?" -- Jenny

Grumpy says-- I believe it was Robert Frost who wrote, "Good hedges make good neighbors." Since you live near Nashville, you need evergreen shrubs that like your climate and also take pruning and shearing quite well, so that you can control their size. Here are some suggestions: 'Hicks' Japanese yew (Taxus x media 'Hicksii'); 'Nellie R. Stevens,' 'Needlepoint,' 'Robin,' 'Sky Pencil,' or 'Oak Leaf' holly; 'Gray Gleam,' 'Skyrocket,' or 'Spartan' juniper; and 'Bright 'n Tight' cherry laurel.

Mildew Recipe

"I had a recipe for a spray to control mildew on roses, but my grandson used a hole punch on it and now I can't see all the amounts. How much baking soda do I use?" -- Denise

Grumpy says-- A common recommendation is to add 1 tablespoon of baking soda to a gallon of water. The alkaline nature of the baking soda makes leaf surfaces inhospitable for the fungus. You may also want to to mix in 1 tablespoon of horticultural oil to help the spray spread evenly and stick.

Everywhere I look, careless neighbors are bringing down the neighborhood. They don't paint, they don't edge, they don't take in their trash cans, but worst of all, they don't cut their grass. I loathe such slobs, so imagine my consternation when I returned from a lovely vacation to find that the weediest, most overgrown lawn on the street stood right in front of my house.

Naturally, I can't be faulted for this. Here is who I blame.  

1. The Irresponsible Weather. Every year, I go on vacation in July knowing that it won't rain during the entire month and I don't have anybody I can trust to water properly. Thus, I don't cut the grass right before I leave, because then it would be brown as a yard in Phoenix when I return. (Personal aside -- Why do people live in Phoenix? It's huge, flat, alternates between brown and gray, is hotter than Hades most of the time, and has no water. Someone please enlighten me.) Only this year, it decided to rain a lot. And it's rained every day since I got back, so I can't mow. If the grass gets any taller, elephants will hide in there. I'm so ashamed.

2. The Worthless Crabgrass Preventer. I paid $25 and put down this stuff exactly when the label said I should and in the manner specified. What did I get for my efforts? Look at the photo! A prize crop of the the healthiest, happiest, most beautiful crabgrass I've ever had. Next year, I'm planting only crabgrass. That should ensure none comes up.

3. Shameless Neighbors. When they saw the desperate situation my lawn was in, someone should have come over and cut it without being asked. It's a matter of neighborhood pride. (Heck, I'd do it for them, but I'm always out of town.) 

Subduing the Jungle

I estimate that my Bermuda grass is now about 4 inches tall and the crabgrass is almost twice that. I've considered bringing in a bush-hog, but that might slaughter all of the innocent quail and prairie chickens who've recently taken up residence. So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait until the grass is dry (sometime in the 23rd century), put my mower on its highest setting (around 3 inches) and mow it down to 3 inches. Then I'll wait a few days, lower the height to 2-1/2 inches, and mow it again. A week later, I'll cut it down to 2 inches. That way, the grass will remain green even in the summer heat and my sidewalk and cat will miraculously reappear.

I closing, I would just like to say to the weather, the next time I expect a drought, I'd better get one. You're making me look like a renter.

In a shameless conspiracy that involved public officials, crab boat captains, frontier showgirls, and baby seals, the state of Alaska finally succeeded in forcing the Grump to go home and actually do some work.

As you may know, for the past two weeks, I have been cruising with my family along the coast of our 49th state, engaged in a variety of perilous activities that involved eating, drinking, eating, drinking, and eating. I was aboard a Holland America cruise and the passengers were rather older as a group than I've been used to. How old? Let's just say that the only people I've met who were older are all mentioned in the Bible.

The fact that the ship was named "The M.S. Stewed Prune" should have tipped me off, I guess.

But we had a very good time hiking, sightseeing, meeting interesting people from all over the country, and not buying any of that schlocky jewelry cruise lines always try to foist off on you. (I mean, does it make sense that the best deals in the world on diamonds are in Alaska? Moose poop, yes; diamonds, no.)

Among my favorite pastimes were looking at the local gardens (in Seward, their peonies were in full bloom) and trying the local brews. So imagine my delight when I stumbled upon this establishment in the quaint little village in Haines that mixed the two just perfectly. Show me some pansies, million bells, lobelias, and Moose Drool ale and you can keep me occupied for hours.

I'll be officially back in the office on August 11 with more exciting photos of my family's exploits and maybe talk some gardening too. Now, will someone please pass me some more baby seal? It's really delicious!