Hail the Azalea

The humble azalea may be called the “royalty of the garden,” but in most suburban yards I think it is probably the least-appreciated flowering shrub. Like a best friend, it’s often around so much that we tend to take it for granted. I believe it’s time to give the azalea its due.

This shrub is actually a great source of color and delicate beauty. Like a steel magnolia, once it’s happily established, it’s hardy and resilient. With over 10,000 varieties, it gives the home gardener a wide range of choices and, when provided a few simple treats, it will really deliver.

We tend to think of azaleas as those lastminute housewarming gifts we pick up at the grocery store. (Actually, I’ve found those hothouse-grown azaleas have a hard time adapting to an outdoor garden.) But the azalea is really much more interesting than that and has an ancient, colorful past.

The azalea traces its heritage back thousands of years. In Chinese tradition, it represents sadness or bittersweet memories, though it doesn’t seem like a particularly emotional plant to me. And the story is told how the sweet nectar of the azalea, left as a “gift” by a conquered army, weakened an entire regiment in the ancient Roman Empire, making it easy to defeat. (The moral of that story: the azalea’s nectar is toxic, so don’t use it as a garnish.)

There’s a Korean wine called “tugyonju” that’s made out of azalea blossoms (hopefully they’ve worked out that toxic ingredient in the winemaking process). And, according to The Azalea Society of America, there are azaleas in Japan that are hundreds of years old and stand as tall as young trees with trunks 12 inches in diameter. Rare, but true. I’ve never seen the azaleas in Japan, but I will never forget the azaleas in Savannah, Ga. Absolutely breathtaking.

Closer to home, this old standard faithfully colors the sprawl

ing suburbs. It’s part of the modern Rhododendron genus and there are varieties of azalea for just about any garden bed. We picture them mainly in shade beds, but full-sun varieties are available as well.

I personally like to paint with azaleas. They have such vibrant shades that they can be used as strong splashes of color within a planting bed. And, if you’ve ever attempted a white garden, chances are you’ve already commissioned some white azaleas into service— they are among the best sources of garden white.

Here’s my confession: I’ve never made an azalea happy. Not really happy. No, I don’t believe I need family counseling on this point, but I’ve recently learned a few tips that seem to be helping and my azaleas are starting to bloom early this year. I am hopeful.

The best bit came from Kate at Hartley Botanical in Moorpark. A few months ago she told me to dig my planting holes shallow but wide and line them with peat moss before planting a new azalea. That single method is working wonders in my garden this year.

In fact, organic material and mulching can do more for an established azalea’s health and wellbeing than chemical feeding, according to The Azalea Sociey. They say having decomposed organic matter in the soil and “maintaining an organic mulch around the azaleas are more important than applying chemical fertilizers and are much safer.”

Of course, if you do feed your azaleas, you’ll need azalea food—that is a food that is more acidic than standard 16-16-16 and would also be appropriate for your other acidlovers like calla lilies, Japanese maples and hydrangeas. A slow-release food like Osmocote has been recommended to me as well.

Like many gardens in

the area, my personal plot

of land is plagued by heavy clay soil—a hostile environment for most of the plants I want to grow. Rhododendrons are particularly unhappy in clay soil. “The Sunset Western Garden Book” suggests raised planting beds with a soil mixture that’s 50 percent organic material, 30 percent soil and 20 percent sand to combat the nasty clay. (Note: If you don’t have a “Sunset Western Garden Book,” go get one. It is an absolute bible for local gardeners.)

According to “Sunset,” azaleas need acid soil, air in the root zone and a constant moisture supply. “In other words, they need soil that is both fast-draining and moisture retentive.”

So I suppose our dear old faithful is rather persnickety after all.

But be kind. At several thousand years old, I’d say she’s earned a little special treatment.