Crepe myrtles are hot right now. In fact, no subject is of more interest to Southerners this summer than the non-stop coverage of Michael Jackson. (FYI, before the funeral, the family rejected embalming MJ, as that would be redundant.)

Thus, the ever-generous, all-caring Grump will answer 10 of the most common questions about crepe myrtles directed his way every week.

1. What does crepe myrtle need to grow well and bloom?

 Answer -- Lots of sun, well-drained soil, and extended summer heat. After suffering for so many years from hearing about how great gardening is in England, I am gratified to know that crepe myrtle hates it there. The summers aren't sufficiently long and hot.

Winter cold is another consideration for you people up north. Although some selections, such as 'Acoma' (white), 'Centennial Spirit' (dark red), 'Comanche' (coral pink), 'Hopi' (medium pink), 'Yuma' (lavender), and 'Zuni' (lavender), are reputed to withstand temperatures below zero, if zero temps are common where you live, I wouldn't plant crepe myrtle. It does best in Zones 7, 8, and 9. Instead, plant 'Pink Diamond' or 'Tardiva' hydrangea. (Both are selections of summer-flowering Hydrangea paniculata.)

2. When is a good time to plant crepe myrtle?

Answer -- When the plant is dormant, either in fall, winter (where winters are mild), or early spring. Of course, you can plant a crepe myrtle grown in a container in summer too, as long as you water it frequently to keep it from wilting. Once it's established, it's quite drought-tolerant.

3. When should I prune crepe myrtle?

Answer -- Late winter is the best time for two reasons. One, the plant has no leaves, so you can easily see all the branches and which ones need removing. Two, crepe myrtle blooms on new growth. Pruning in winter won't reduce summer blooming.

Having said that, you can produce a second major flush of blooms on most crepe myrtles by pruning off the round, green seed pods that form just after the first flowers fade. The second flush won't be quite as showy, but you'll like it nonetheless.

4. What is "crepe murder?"

Answer -- Crepe murder is the odious practice of using saws and loppers to cut down a crepe myrtle into thick, ugly stubs, usually performed on an early spring weekend by bored husbands seeking to justify their existence to women. This ruins the natural form of the plant, produces weak spindly branches too weak to hold up the flowers, and prevents the formation of the beautiful, smooth, mottled bark that looks so pretty in winter.  

For specific instructions on pruning crepe myrtles, see "Stop! Don't Chop" and "Crepe Myrtle Pruning Step-by-Step," two highly informative articles written by your favorite Grump.

5. What's that black stuff all over the leaves?

Answer -- Hershey's Dark Chocolate. Nah, just kidding. Actually, it's black mold growing on the sticky honeydew produced by sucking insects, usually aphids. Get rid of the aphids and you'll have no mold. Spray according to label directions with an environmentally friendly product, such as refined horticultural oil on insecticidal soap (make sure to wet the undersides of the leaves), or a systemic insecticide that's absorbed into the leaves, such as Ortho Max Tree & Shrub Insect Control.  

6. White that's white stuff all over the leaves and flower buds?

Answer -- Powdery mildew, a fungus that likes warm, humid weather. Many older types of crepe myrtle are highly susceptible. The fungus distorts the foliage and often ruins the flower buds. While you can prevent powdery mildew by spraying according to label directions with a fungicide such as Daconil or Immunox or even with refined horticultural oil, you're better off buying a mildew-resistant selection, such as 'Natchez,' 'Miami,' 'Sioux,' 'Dynamite,' and 'Biloxi.' Look for this on the plant label.

7. Why doesn't my healthy crepe myrtle bloom?

Answer -- Could be lots of reasons. Maybe it doesn't get enough sun. Maybe powdery mildew ruined the blooms. Maybe Japanese beetles ate it. Maybe it just needs a few more years to grow. Maybe you're in a drought. A crepe myrtle will often go dormant during a very dry summer with flower buds ready to pop. They'll only pop when the plant gets some water, either from rain or from you. 

8. What are some crepe myrtles that don't get so tall?

Answer -- One way to avoid crepe murder is to select varieties that don't need pruning. Small ones (5-10 feet) include  'Acoma,' (white), 'Hopi' (pink), 'Tonto' (red), and 'Zuni' (lavender). Dwarf types (3-5 feet) include 'Centennial' (purple), 'Petite' (various colors), 'Razzle Dazzle' (various colors), 'Pocomoke' (rose-pink), and 'Victor' (deep red).

9. What are the Grump's favorite crepe myrtles?

Answer -- 'Natchez,' (tall white), 'Miami' (tall pink, pictured above), 'Catawba' (medium purple), 'Dynamite' (medium red), 'Watermelon Red' (tall red), 'Petite Orchid' (dwarf purple).

10. Why do you spell crepe myrtle with an "e"?

Answer -- It never ceases to amaze me how many people think this spelling is the most significant issue facing the world today. I spell it with an "e" because the crinkled flowers remind me of crepe. If you want to spell it "crape," go ahead -- on your own blog.

When anyone asks me what's the best time to prune a mimosa, my instinctive response is, "Any time you can find a chainsaw."

That's very judgmental of me, I know, but heck, that's pretty much my job. And mimosa is one of those plants you either love or you hate. I hate it now. But I used to love it.

Why, when I was a kid, at the nadir of sensibility and good taste, I thought mimosa (Albizia julibrissin) was the prettiest tree in the world. Its leaves were like ferns. Its flowers were pink puffballs. And it bloomed in summer, when few other trees did.

A Miracle -- My Wife Agrees!

Judy, who notices very few plants,  has fond childhood memories of mimosa too. She remembers climbing up in her neighbors trees to smell the flowers. I think they smell faintly of gardenias -- not like my son's socks, which would actually cause you to faint.

How It all Began

Native to the Middle East and Asia, mimosa was brought to this country in 1785 by the famous French botanist Andre Michaux, who planted it in his botanic garden in Charleston, South Carolina. It grew quickly into a vase-shaped, flat-topped tree, 30 to 40 feet tall, and it loved the Southern climate. The flowers, attractive to butterflies, hummingbirds, and colonial gardeners, ranged in color from nearly red to deep pink to flesh-pink to white. On one road-side near my home, there is a row of them, each a different color. Here's the usual pink.

And here's a white one. I really like the white, but I've never seen it for sale. The various colors are due to genetic variation, with pink being dominant. Where I live in Alabama, the trees usually start blooming in June and continue for several weeks into July.

So Why Do I Hate Mimosa Now?

Two reasons, First, like most all fast-growing trees, mimosa is notoriously short-lived, subject to many pests, and will die on you in a heartbeat. When people ask me the best way to get rid of a mimosa, I tell them to make it the focal point of their landscape and it will be gone momentarily.

Second, after the flowers fade, the tree grows hundreds of 6-inch long, bean-like, brown seedpods which hang from every branch. The seedpods persist all winter, even after the tree has dropped its leaves. Few trees look as ugly or more forlorn.

But wait! It gets worse! Each of those pods is filled with seeds and each and every one of them germinates somewhere, even in cracks in the pavement. Plant one mimosa in the yard and soon every house in the neighborhood has two or three mimosas. coming up in the fence, the middle of a bush, or by the silver propane tank.

Mimosa adapts to almost any well-drained soil, laughs at heat and drought, and does not mind if you spray-paint the trunk white, hang tires from the branches, or park your pickup on top of its roots. In hort class, we called it a "pioneer species," because if you disturb the land, remove native vegetation, and open the tree canopy to light, it's one of the first trees to appear. That's why you see it growing along just about every highway and country road in the South. Northerners be glad it doesn't like your cold winters, but with global warming, who knows how much longer you'll be free?

Not Fooling Me

Recently, a new kind of mimosa was introduced to the gardening world, a purplish-bronze leaf selection called 'Summer Chocolate.' The hype over its undeniably pretty foliage and pink flowers was overwhelming. Probably many of you bought one and are enjoying it right now. But not me.

See, any mimosa that flowers is going to produce seeds and lots of them. And if a thousand seedlings come up in my yard, I don't care if they have green leaves or purple leaves. They need to be eliminated with extreme prejudice.

So my advice about when to prune a mimosa remains the same -- whenever you can find a chainsaw.

The new July 2009 issue of Southern Living features an incredibly entertaining and informative story written by me about three great trees for summer blooms. In case you're too cheap to buy  it, let me discuss my favorite tree of the bunch -- chaste tree (Vitex agnus-castus).

Native to southern Europe and central Asia, chaste tree quickly grows into a multi-trunked tree about 10 to 20 feet tall and wide with a broad, spreading habit. It gets its name from the erroneous medieval belief that a potion made from it could curb the libido. In reality, wearing a house dress with orthopedic shoes and multiple nose piercings is much more effective.

That doesn't mean that chaste tree doesn't have its pharmacological uses. An extract made from Vitex supposedly does a very good job of controlling PMS. Which means any of you guys out there who are routinely beaten every 28 days should definitely plant one in the yard.

Blue for You

But the best thing about chaste tree, in my uber-learned opinion, is the flowers. Chaste tree is one of the very few winter-hardy trees out there that sports true blue flowers (although they can also be pink, purple, or white). The one you're looking at here is 'Abbeville Blue.' which bears large, spectacular panicles of deep-blue flowers in summer. Other selections I like include 'Montrose Purple' (purple blooms), 'Shoal Creek' (blue-violet), and 'Silver Spires.' (white). If you buy an unnamed chaste tree tree from a nursery, buy it in bloom so you can see the color of the flowers and the general shape of the plant. A good mail-order source for named selections is Forest Farm.   

The Skinny on Chaste Tree

Here are some different ways to use chaste tree in the landscape:

1. As a single specimen in the lawn

2. In a row along a property line or a driveway

3. Limbed-up in a border with lower plants growing beneath it

4. As a small patio tree

Few trees are as easy to grow. Here's the low-down:

Light: Full sun

Soil: Well-drained

Water; Regular moisture at first -- very drought tolerant once established

Pests: None serious

Pruning: Not the tidiest plant in the world. Needs regular pruning to produce an attractive multi-trunked tree. Prune in winter. Clean out the entire center of the tree, removing all side branches from main 4 to 5 trunks. Also remove messy, twiggy growth that tends to crowd the ends of the branches. As an option, cut entire plant to ground in winter. It will sprout in spring and bloom in summer, although later than chaste trees not pruned so severely. You can also force a second bloom in summer by removing the first flush of blooms as soon as they fade. 

Salt & wind tolerance: Good

Cold-hardiness: Winter-hardy through Zone 6; in Zone 5, may be killed to the ground in winter, but will sprout and bloom the following summer.

Bee alert: Bumblebees love this plant above all others and will even spend the night on the flowers. Keep this in mind if bees freak you out.

A while back, the Grump linked to highly intelligent garden bloggers from across the country, so that each of us could present "The Six Plants I Can't Live Without." It was a lot of fun and incited a lot of discussion and possible future warfare. The July 2009  issue of Southern Living mentions this blogathon, so if you missed it the first time and would like to see which plants His Grumpiness picked, click this link.

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.  

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?

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.

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!

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.) 

"What's that awful smell?" my son demanded the other day. "It's all over the neighborhood."

Had our next-door neighbor reopened his glue factory? Had week-old shrimp rained from the sky? Had banking execs awarded themselves more million-dollar bonuses? Nope. The stench was emanating from the prettiest trees on the street.

The Grump learned something new this month on Edisto Island, South Carolina. To produce the biggest, fattest, prize-winning camellia blooms, you need to start with Johnnie Walker.

   I took this myself!

What concerns people most in the country right now? Losing their jobs? Losing their retirements? Nope. It's how to properly prune their crepe myrtles Here's a step-by-step guide showing how the Grumps prunes his.

You don’t need supercomputers, weather satellites, Nostradamus, or Jim Cantore to tell you an unprecedented Arctic freeze is on its way. All you have to do is look in my back yard. My camellia is in full bloom. And that means the End Times are near.

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

-----------------------------------

"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. 

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.   

No plant is more closely associated with the holidays than holly. But many people are sadly ignorant of the showiest winter hollies of all -- the deciduous hollies. Let the Grump enlighten you.

The Grump is about to pontificate about how to care for roses in winter. But first, a question from a devoted reader:

"I live in southern West Virginia and planted my first 'Knockout' rose bush early this summer.  It has done wonderfully well with many blossoms all summer. What do I do with it now that the weather is turning cold?
Thanks,
Donna Jones"

Saltbush definitely has a place in home gardens, as evidenced by this shot I took in my neighborhood.

Right now, a lot of you are noticing a shrub on the side of the road that seems to be smothered in white flowers. You like it, but don’t know what it is, so you go to the one infallible source who can tell you – your humble yet omniscient Grumpy Gardener.

Cape plumbago (Plumbago auriculata) -- One of Grumpy's favorite sources for blue flowers!

Q: I live in South Florida and my cape plumbago and ficus hedge has been infested with white fly. There is a lot of dead wood on the underside of the plants and they are thinning out rapidly. I can't afford to replace them - I have over 130 feet of plumgago beds.

Any suggestions?

Thank you,
George DeBarros

Q: I have two camelias that begin to bloom in October and continue to bloom until January if we don't have a killing frost.  I don't know their name.  However, one of them (only this year) has leaves that look mutant.  They are tiny and haven't grown much.  The other is fine.  They about 12 to 14 feet apart on the south side of my house (this is the front).  These camelias are about thirty years old and I really like them.  They have at times had rubbery looking leaves but nothing like this.
Can you tell me what to do?

Dianne Hollifield
Kings Mountain, NC

Dear Grumpy Gardener,
I live in Ville Platte, La. Located in the center of the state. I need a fast growing tree that will grow next to a patio and provide shade. I have crepe myrtles and river birch trees in other areas of my yard so I am looking for something different. Do you have any suggestions?
Thanks, Andree

Q: What is the name of the crepe myrtle cultivar located at the wall surrounding the Auburn University Library?
Robert Harrington

It’s my favorite time of year. The air grows crisp and cool, screaming brats get banished to school, and we all look forward to the miraculous blooming of the toilet paper tree.

Dear Grumpster,
Please suggest a tree for me. We live in lower Alabama and I need suggestions for a tree that will stay compact and not grow too tall for a spot between my house and a new deck. I'm trying to break up/soften the appearance of the area by creating a bed in between the brick houses and new deck.

Thanks,
Holly

Q: Dear Grumpy,

I need to transplant a boxwood that is in the way of an addition to the house. How do I do that? It needs to be done now (October).

Carol

Q: Could you please identify the unnamed leaves on page 96 of the September 2008 issue of Southern Living? Sure looks like cannabis.
Marilynne S.

Q: My dwarf crepe myrtle bloomed in July---a beautiful deep red/watermelon color---same color it has been for ten years. I deadheaded the blooms, fertilized it, and two weeks ago it bloomed again. Guess what? It was pink. What happened to my beautiful red blossoms? Now the blooms are either pink or coral on same stems. I had repotted it in February and fertilized it.

HELP!
Jean

Q: Steve,

I have a tree-shaped ligustrum at the corner of my house that drops 30-40 leaves every day of the year. It's in full sun and is watered regularly. Otherwise, it seems healthy. Is this normal?

Thanks.
Liz

Q: Howdy, we live in Dallas and we are having some problems with bugs on our oleanders. Tiny yellow/black insects and most recently some very tiny worm looking things. Any suggestions regarding treatment?
Mark Gist

Q: Dear Grumpy,
Southern living invited readers to ask you questions so here goes. I am having a difficult time growing Japanese maples. The tips of the branches have turned white. The trees have plenty of leaves growing everywhere except for the ends or tips of the branches. This is what happened to two other Japanese maples until they eventually didn't grow anymore leaves and died. What do I need to do?
Thanks,
Rose

Q: Hi Grumpy Gardener,

I feel like I could describe myself this way also!!

How far back can a lorepetelum be cut/trimmed back? (I may have spelled the name of the plant incorectly-don't hold it against me.) I bought such small plants years ago, and now they just grow so large if I don't keep them trimmed!

Please advise about this plant!

Thanks,

Gardener in Georgia

Q: I have a large tulip poplar which was struck by lightning a few years ago. The year it happened, I contacted the county extension service for advice. I was told that trees usually form a callous at the injured spot, but if insects get in the tree, spray. The tree did form calluses on the sides of the wound, but even though I sprayed several times, insects got in, and there is some rotting where the tree is exposed with no bark covering.

I've just had a tree service man give me an estimate on removing some dead trees. I pointed out the problem on the poplar, and he recommended using spray paint on the exposed part of the tree trunk. He said that would keep out any more insects and seal up the rotting area.

Have you ever heard of using this technique and would you recommend it? The tree isn't near any structure. Rita

Q: We live in Western North Carolina and are just settling into our new home since last September. I took this picture this afternoon of this gorgeous butterfly on a bush outside our home that I would like to cultivate. It has a gazillion blooms and the butterflies are checking them all out which gives me plenty of time to get some good photographs.

Can you tell me the name of this bush? Can it be cultivated with cuttings? Can I buy seeds or plants from you?

Thanks,
Fritz Owens
Zirconia, NC

Q: I have a common question concerning my hydrangeas blooming pink instead of blue. I purchased them while they were blooming and they were blue.
I know it is all about the soil -- acid for blue blooms -- I have watered them with aluminum sulfate -- and they continue to bloom light pink.

Question 1 --- Am I using the correct product -- if so, how often do I water with this and when do I begin?
Quesion 2 --- When do I prune my hydrangeas so I can be assured of blooms the following year?

Thanks for you time and I look forward to hearing from you.
Lavonda

Q: I would like to transplant an older butterfly bush. When is the best time of year to do this? I like in Southern California in Sunset Zone 18. Thanks much. Jo Formino

NOW do you see why I tell you over and over again not to chop down your crepe myrtles every spring?

Q: Hi, I live in southern Alabama, and just purchased some Arapaho crepe myrtles in seven gallon containers. A couple of the crepes have two trunks coming up from the root ball and each of the trunks branch out about eighteen inches up. These trunks look like they could be separated into two trees. Would you recommend dividing them?
Thank you, Clay

Q: I have several hydrangeas at our home in Wilmington, NC. Three summers ago, they bloomed beautifully, but last 2 summers I've had 1 or 2 blooms on each. They look very wilted but watering hasn't helped. Any suggestions? Kendra

Q: I recently had four 15-year-old Bradford pear trees removed from my front lawn because they were encroaching on the utility lines and I had already had two to die. Prior to having them removed, one tree had sprouts all in the lawn around the tree. Since I've had the other trees removed, they are also beginning to sprout everywhere. I have not had the stumps removed yet. I put rock salt on the stumps immediately after having the trees removed, but this doesn't seem to have helped. How can I stop this unsightly, annoying problem and not kill all the grass or dig up my lawn?

Thanks,
J Masisak
Middle Georgia

Q: I have 2 very healthy hydrangeas -- 'Bluebird' and one Oakleaf hydrangea -- that have grown in size over the last 7 years but do not produce blooms. This year the 'Bluebird' variety has lots of flower clusters but only 5 or 6 little white flowers bloom on each cluster. I have not cut it back in a few years since I was afraid I was cutting away the new growth and therefore the blooms. The plants are in an east facing garden against the garage wall. The soil tends to be lots of clay. Any suggestions on fertilizer or pruning?
Thanks,
Jennifer Patterson
Owings, MD

Q: When I cut a bouquet of French hydrangeas the flowers begin to wilt as soon as I put them in vase with cool water.  What can I do to correct this?    I want to enjoy them in the house.

Q: I'm fairly new to the South and I have a question that none of the natives have been able to answer for me.  I'm hoping you can.  What causes Spanish moss to grow on one tree when the tree next to it has none?  I know it sounds silly but this question is making me crazy!
Thanks,
Misty

Q: I live in Houston, TX and I have a few summer blooming hydrangeas planted in my front flower bed (which faces north). Some of them are browning on the leaves (even though they get water every day) and some are doing fine. Do you have a good tip for keeping them alive during the hot summer? I also have a bunch of Lily of the Nile. What is a good fertilizer for them? Melissa Comer