Nicotiana tabacum

This is a plant that completely brings me to my knees.

I have always believed that one should stop and smell the roses, but I guess roses never excited me enough to understand the full meaning of that phrase. Roses are nice, with an olfactory palette ranging from fruity to perfumed. Worth stopping for, but in the end they are just nice.

The flowers of tobacco are a different story. I first starting growing tobacco as an annual ornamental with the species Nicotiana alata. A pretty form that has been embraced by the retail nursery trade. It is available in a host of colors, and seems to be sold in abundance for that attribute. The red form is nice, but I get more scent from the white varieties. It is an annual, herbaceous member of the nightshade family with an abundance of flowers throughout most of the growing season. Mine are still flowering this far into autumn, and have left me with abundant seeds for next year.

Pictured above is the result of my first foray into growing Nicotiana tabacum. Now, I have spent only small portions of my life as a smoker. I never could get into it, no matter how enticing the nicotine may have been, because I just like my lungs too much. They've helped me run vast distances, remind me to calm myself down when I fill them slowly, and generally do a good job of keeping me alive. Smoking tobacco just doesn't do it for me. But I think this species may just be my favorite new plant, even encumbered with all of the potential health problems caused by the misuse of the cured leaves. The smell of this plant is among the 10 most wonderful things I have experienced on this planet.

The scent is like jasmine, cardamom, peppercorn, and slightly fermented honeysuckle nectar decided to have a party. For the record, that would be the most awesome party ever. I started my plants late, and hope I get enough seed from them for next year. Even with cold temperatures in the evening, the scent still dominates my driveway at night. When I told my wife on a recent chilly night how much I love this plant, she reminded me that it is one of the components of her favorite perfume. I have to find the URL of that online perfumery.

In addition to alata and tabacum, I've grown rustica as well. Nicotiana rustica is pervasive in shamanic rituals throughout the Americas, but from my experience is pretty lacking in other aesthetic attributes. The depth of its incorporation into Native American shamanism is remarkable. Even though I really don't have a place for much more in my annual flowering bed, I still save a few seed pods year after year to keep the plant going in my yard.

Nicotiana is easy to grow, and adds brightness and perfume to the evening garden for months on end. Find some seeds for sale or trade, and throw them some place easily forgotten in the sunny part of your garden. Some will invariably come up next year. Let the addiction begin.

The Garden at Night

This video is a little something the Plant Dude put together to show folks how to use white blooming flowers in the garden for vibrant visual appeal. It also is a way to share a great personality from B.B. Barns.

Expand the video for full screen, and check it out in HD if your system allows.

A good little idea for bulb planting time.

So this might seem like a simple idea, hardly worth blogging about, but I thought it was pretty clever. One of my friends & colleagues Hunter Stubbs from the B.B. Barns Landscape Division was at a client's house planting some bulbs around her water feature. Before digging the holes and putting them in the ground he placed the bags in the general areas where he was going to plant. Then he took a picture to give the client so that she could have a record of where the bulbs would come up in the Spring.

Seems like just a little thing, but it can be a good record to have when planning & planting after the bulbs have gone in. Many trees, shrubs and perennials can go in the ground so long as the dirt isn't frozen. Having a record of the bulb planting areas, with an indication of what colors are going to come up, can be useful for off season planting.

Two very different, but very groovy plants.

The Ghost Chili

This plant has gained a bit of notoriety recently due to some exposure on shows like Man Vs. Food, and other adventurous food oriented shows. The notoriety is well deserved, as this is supposedly the hottest chili known to humanity. While there may be some others that rival this one for heat, like the Dorsett Naga & the Trinidad Scorpion, the Ghost Chili is still impressive at approximately 1,000,000 Scoville Units. For a little perspective on this number, this is 3 times as hot as the hottest Habanero you may have ever consumed.

Also known as Bhut Jolokia, the Ghost Chili has grown very well for the Plant Dude this year. I ordered a seed pack from J.L. Hudson, one of my favorite places to get interesting plant seeds, and got nearly 100% germination rates. The plant itself is beautiful, with dark purple veining and wide lush leaves. I had heard that it matures slowly, which I have found to be the case, so I am growing mine in a large container. I'll bring it in to the greenhouse if temps fall too low before the fruits mature. Stay tuned to the Plant Dude blog, as I intend to add video of myself being tortured by the Ghost Chili to the other videos out there by people foolish enough to consume this monster pepper!

Common Sorrel

Common Sorrel, or Rumex acetosa as it is known in binomial nomenclature, is a very easy herb to grow in the Appalachian mountains. This perennial grows easily from seed, germinating best in cooler times of the year. The picture above shows plants that I started from seed early this year, and now I am already having to thin them out.

The flavor of this leafy plant is surprising. It has been described as somewhere between lemon and spinach, but I don't really get that flavor from it. The tartness, which I assume is the "lemon" flavor others talk about, seems more to me like straight ascorbic acid. This makes sense given the high levels of Vitamin C in this plant. I do get some spinach flavor from the plant, but sorrel behaves a bit differently in the kitchen from spinach. While spinach can be wilted, sauteed or otherwise heated and retain a green color, sorell will brown quickly in the presence of heat. Therefore it is best to add it fresh, or barely cooked in order to retain a bright color & flavor.

My favorite ways to use the sorrel are to cut the veins from the leaves, roll them into cigar shaped wad, and cut them in a fine chiffonade just like basil. These fine strips are perfect for adding a tangy flavor to salads and cold dishes. I have also made a clarified butter that has sorrel blended in to it. This is a great addition to salmon, and other fish rich in fats and oils.

Rubus idaeus 'Anne'

One of my favorite small fruiting plants to grow is the golden raspberry, 'Anne.' Not normally grown commercially due to a tendency of the fruit to soften quickly, it is well suited to home cultivation since the fruits are used immediately. Sometimes the fruits are used SUPER-immediately. That plastic container in the picture above was full about 45 seconds before I snapped the picture. The kid with the truck on his shirt was full about 45 seconds after I took the picture. Oh well, I may get some myself off of the next flush.

In the southern Appalachians, with very cold winters and sometimes hot summers, there can be some variability to this cultivar. Anne can fruit off of new canes reasonably well, but is late to do so if we have a long winter. If we have a hot summer then it really takes a fair amount of watering to keep fruiting strong. With enough Plant-Tone fertilizer under their belt, these heavy feeders will produce an abundant late August or early September haul.

What I love most about this variety is that it is a perfect fruit additive for golden Belgian ales. One of the best beers I ever brewed was a farmhouse wheat ale that I racked onto a few pounds of these golden beauties that I had collected and shoved in the freezer over the course of the growing season. The wild yeast I used gave a nice tartness that complimented the rich flavor of the Anne raspberry. When I cracked open a bottle the next spring after a few months of aging, I was reminded of just how sweet the coming summer would be.

Yes, the fig is possible in Asheville.

Growing figs isn't always the easiest thing to do in the southern Appalachian mountains. Most varieties that are commercially available tend to be rated toUSDA zone 8, or at best zone 7. While many people will say that we are not zone 6b, but rather a zone 7, every single fig that I have tried to grow in the past begs to differ.

I first tried the Brown Turkey fig the year before our devastating Easter freeze a number of years ago. Just planted it in the ground and hoped for the best. If the moderate winter in the ground didn't kill it, then the 9 deg Fahrenheit in April surely nailed it. Never saw it green again.

Later I tried a Celeste fig. Planted it early in the season to give it enough time to establish a root system before cold temps. I had a few immature fruits form the first year, but nothing ripened. Another moderate winter rolled through the mountains, and that was it, Celeste was dead.

So on an auspicious late summer day last year, another fellow fig killer came into B.B. Barns and showed me her dead fig. We exchanged knowing, disappointed looks. I told her about my own difficulties with the plant, and right before the tear came to my eye she asked for her 50% store credit. Left with a plant that was almost dead, and a satisfied customer with a store credit in hand, I decided to experiment one more time.


I nursed the plant back to health with seaweed solution and harpin protein. Put it in the ground, and built a simple stick frame around the plant. As fall descended, I cut back the Brown Turkey fig and wrapped it in landscape fabric.

After the chance of horrible frost passed in the spring, I unwrapped the plant and let it flush back out as a small shrub. It leafed out well, without any of the vascular damage that knocked out my previous plants. The new growth was so encouraging, particularly given the persistently cold winter we had this past year.



The plant keeps getting stronger, and there are at least a dozen green fruits forming that have gotten bigger than anything I've seen in my garden thus far. It seems that by protecting the vascular tissue from battering winter winds, the fig is able to allocate energy toward making fruit instead of continually regenerating vegetative matter. I know, nerd-speak. If that seems dorky to say, then think of it like this. Nobody feels sexy when they've had their arm frozen off. Figs are in the same boat. Treat them well, and they will be in the mood to produce fruit and try to reproduce.

A truly "Frost Proof" Gardenia.

The quest for a cold hardy Gardenia in the Southern Appalachians has been a disappointing one for many gardeners. The Michael's and Kleim's Hardy Gardenias have been touted by some to be able to survive winters. In practice, however, they tend to die back to the ground or are subject to delayed flushing of leaves. The result has been small, unattractive plants that are not evergreen and barely flower. What's the point of even growing a Gardenia if that is to be the case?

Last year I decided to try one more variety that was described by renowned horticulturist Michael Dirr to be a truly cold hardy variety. This Gardenia was aptly named "Frost Proof," but with little enthusiasm I left it in a container and proceeded to forget about it over the brutal winter. To my surprise it not only survived, but only lost 5% of its leaves to freeze damage. It set buds with gusto, and the picture above that I snapped this morning shows the first flower of the year. By the end of June it will be covered in blooms, and with a little dead-heading will maintain fragrant, double white blossoms until the first freeze.

Now, I don't recommend that everyone in our region try to grow this in a container, but I am confident that with proper planting in the ground this Gardenia will last year after year. Remember that these plants are heavy feeders, and do best in a sunny spot, and the spicy sweet smell of Gardenia blooms will finally be able to fill the gardens of the southern mountains.

Lamium 'Pink Chablis'

Spring is finally here! Woot! It has been so long since I've done anything more than hardscaping and starting seeds with all the winter weather, but now I'm actually putting some stuff in the dirt. One of my big projects from this past winter was removing a large amount of nasty plants from a bank like poison ivy and kudzu. It is now hot & dry, and I need to cover it with some vegetation.

One that I'm considering is this form of Lamium called 'Pink Chablis.' It's deer resistant, which isn't neccessarily an issue for me being near downtown Asheville, but it does tolerate hot & dry rather well. Check it out over at B.B. Barns if this plant seems like it could work for you.