Today I learnt that one person's azalea is another's rhododendron.
I have to admit that while I am reasonably interested in plants - and I do cultivate a decent garden - that the distinction between different flora become somewhat blurred when we move up (or down) the scale of taxonomy and naming and classification.
Maybe if I learnt more Latin, or had the time to meticulously learn about each and every plant I would be able to say with certainty what I was looking at. Instead I am happy just appreciating a plant or flower without a name. Taking in its beauty, its colour and arrangement, and sometimes, its scent.
In the past I thought, given the way they are described, that an azalea and a rhododendron would be similar but different plants. As in, "Wow, look at those azaleas over there, and soon those rhododendrons will be flowering too". But now I am wiser and have learnt that azaleas are flowering shrubs which are part of the Rhododendron genus. However, I should point out, that originally azaleas were classed as being quite different from rhodies, that is, a different genus or family or type. But now, thanks to the wonders of modern science they have been brought in as the eighth sub-genera of rhododendrons. OK, the seventh and eighth sub-genera, as there are both the evergreen (named Pentanthera) and the ones that loose their leaves (deciduous, called Titsushi or Tsutsusi).
Regardless of the azaleas late family reunion with the Rhodies, there is at least one major difference between them and the rest of the rhododendron family: size. Azaleas tend to be smaller. And while rhododendrons grow quite profusely, azaleas have just one flower per stem. This single-blooming is negated in a way by them having lots of stems, all blooming at once for a month or two in Spring, producing a solid mass of colour.
There's some clues for further confirmation which plant you are looking at. For example, with evergreen azaleas, which are sometimes mistaken for small-leaved rhodies, azaleas have only 5 or 6 stamens poking out of the flower heads, while most rhodies have 10 stamens.
Need more criteria? Then look at a leaf-azalea leaves tend to be thinner, softer and more pointed than rhododendron leaves, and azalea leaves tend to have long straight hairs parallel to the leaf surface, usually along the midrib on the underside of the leaf.
And if you are still unsure, one azalea website offers this advice:
Using a magnifying glass, look at the underside of a leaf for tiny round structures called scales-azalea leaves never have scales, while small-leaved rhododendron leaves are always covered with scales.
Azaleas are known as the royalty of the garden. I am not sure why exactly, but can speculate that these days such a title could mean inbreeding, scandal, murder of in-laws and kin, etc. Tellingly, they are the national flower of the much-troubled Nepal.
Plant historians believe azaleas originated in the Cretaceous period (about 67,000,000 years from now) and scattered widely in the northern hemisphere. However, massive droughts and then glaciers meant that azaleas only survived in the eastern part of Asia. Which is where, my friend, you probably know I am living. And as you may know, any plant surviving in China will have a long history of being used as medicine and will also appear in lovely poetry, such as these by the Tang Dynasty poet, Bai Juyi (772-846 A.D.), a man reputed to be rather fond of azalea - so fond he transplanted many into his yard.
Holding two pieces in one's hands,
One will think they are heavenly.
A beauty amidst all flowers,
Other flowers are so ugly beside you.
This poem clearly shows his love of azaleas, and how he is quite prepared to diss' other plants and flowers. And is this poem below, he suggests he would like to party with azaleas.
Flowers of the south bank are so exotic,
They look like fires instead of flowers.
Why do you blossom for me especially?
Who is your favorite in the past?
I would rather take the long journey,
I would like to drink with you.
But it might be a great pity,
For I forget to take a band with me.
If China is the main centre for azaleas, then the province of Yunnan is the global HQ. Botanists in the 19th and 20th century found 482 new types of azaleas in this part of south-west China, leading to a popular saying, that no garden is a real garden without flowers from China (specifically Yunnan). Among the plant hunters were botanists from the Royal Botanical Gardens in Edinburgh, who collected more than 31,000 specimens and took away more than 6,000 plant species, among them azaleas which are still found growing and on display in Edinburgh. There is a story that one botanist cut down a 280-year old, 75m high azalea tree - it is now in the British Museum. And on the slopes of Mt Gaoligong near Tengchong there is a huge azalea with a girth of 10 metres, which is praised as the king of azaleas. It is believed to be 500 years old and is 25 m high. Not bad for a shrub normally only a few metres high.
Anyway, Yunnan has some 420 of the 460 surviving Chinese varieties of azalea. And the azalea is regarded as one of the 10 most beautiful flowers in China. And not just poet Bai Juyi has raved on about them. On a Chinese website one writer goes so far to claim the exuberant and elegant azaleas when in full bloom are a riot of colours 'so beautiful that our eyes can not absorb them at one time'. The scene 'is really like a fairy dancing in the middle of the air with a colorful ribbon'.
Just as colourful are the stories about how the azaleas get their colour. One goes like this. Long, long ago, the Shu kingdom king called Du Yu, was assassinated, but he came back as a cuckoo and cried out bitterly until blood came out of its beak and stained the flowers. [interestingly, cuckoos whine most in April, when the azaleas blooms are red like flames]. Not only are there stories about kings turning into cuckoos and their cries turning to blood, there are also references to the Moon turning red.
Another story I've come across from the Yi people tells of a wicked lord who kept demanding young Yi women for his pleasure. One of the women was Miyilu who offered herself to the evil lord, but then after the wedding killed the tyrant and fled. However the lord's family chased after her, and slew her under an azalea tree (some version have a camellia tree) - and ever since the flowers have been red.
The director's cut on this one involves the heroine Miyilu promising to marry the bad guy, and then toasting her betrothed with some wine. An azalea flower from her hair drops (somewhat deliberately) into the wine and poisons the lord - and Miyilu. Not quite Romeo and Juliette.
While many azaleas are red in colour, there are now so many species and hybrids (some 10,000 different plants have been registered) of varying colour and hue. Flowers are usually 2-3 inches, but can be as small as ½ inch or as large as 5 inches. And the flowers can be made up of just a few petals or over 30. The petals can be straight narrow arrows, or overlapping and rounded. Similarly, the leaves vary from 1cm to 15cm (I have changed to metric just to add to the confusion).
Accordingly, azaleas range from upright to broad spreading. Most are human-sized in height, though I've seen some around these parts that are taller than 2 or 3 people.
In advice about growing azaleas in the US, it says they prefer shade (full sun means the blooms don't last so long), and although they don't like 'wet feet', they do need moist soil at their roots. Strangely enough much of this advice seems contrary to the conditions the azaleas grow in, here in Yunnan. We have a rainy season in summer (June-September), but otherwise it is quite dry and most the plants I've seen are growing in full sun in very, very dry parches earth.
Which leads to the very point of this piece: about a journey to see some blooming azaleas.
I'd heard about the famed azalea forests of Dragon mountain and seen pictures of the flowering trees, so today ventured out of Lijiang on mini-bus, long distance crappy bus, and then in a mini-van to the 10,000 Mu Azalea Forest (10,000 Mu is a area that doesn't relate to the actual size of the designated place, but it sounds nice).
We went out of town on the flat, then turned off up past brick factories and through pine forests before dropping down to a higher valley, where wheat was growing and corn was being planted. After turning off the road, we walked for a while past fields of plouged earth and beans and shade-cloth enclosures where possibly wasabi was being cultivated, before a man driving to a remote village picked us up, and took us up a pass over bumpy bricks and stones, to another valley. We sidled around a steep, terraced area past a few houses, then climbed again, the dust seeping into the vibrating van. Along the way, the driver pointed out the odd azalea, its crimson red flowers standing out amid the muted greens and browns of the scrub and dirt. It was 20 yuan for the minivan, and another 20 yuan entrance each to the rather run-down park. A mother with her baby strapped to her back took the money and directed us across a rickety wooden plank bridge, saying it was 600 m to the main area. We pasted a restaurant with no punters - in fact with only three vehicles in the carpark and it being a Sunday afternoon, it seemed few people came here, or we had come at the wrong time for flowering.
Along the way in were log cabins, newly completed, yet incomplete. Inside was no furniture, and the wiring was not connected. Maybe they would be restaurants, places to rest, or girls' flower houses? Despite the strangeness of having wood cabins high up on the hills, miles from anywhere, there were some tables and stools just off the main track where you could sit in the shade. Seeing a family coming out of the park, the old lady clutching a bag of young bracken ferns, we decided to do the same, and went off-track to forage among the grasses, old fern branches and pine litter for the small shoots of terns. It wasn't easy at first, as the fresh shoots are camouflaged, but once you get your eye in, you can pick a few of the youngest, most tender shoots among the tinder-dry, brittle vegetation.
But we'd come to see the azaleas right? And not plunder the forests, eh. And after a few minutes down the track we came across the blood-red flowering trees, looking like Chinese Christmas trees, their branches and stems laden with deep red arrangements of flowers, illuminated in the bright light of a hot day. It looked as if a florist had made arrangements on many of the trees, clustering flowers here and there.
It was hot and hard and dry underfoot, so we rested in the shade, listening to the cheeps and twitter of birds and the chirping of crickets. A family group walked past, surprised enough at seeing a foreigner for everyone under 15 years old to exclaim 'lao wai' (old whitey).
Some of the older trees had interesting bark, like rectangular tiles of elephant tuck, not unlike a tree known locally as the 'mah jong' tree because of its textured bark. As well as azaleas both big and small, there were pine trees, some twisted and bent. One had looped on itself. Three pine trees stood next to each other, each with a bend in its truck like all had experienced an extreme weather event or the sudden chance to grow in a certain way.
At the end of the track, more log cabins were scattered around. One group had left half-empty water bottles and the litter from a KFC meal. Below the cabins were a series of stone fort-like enclosures, where fires had been lit in the past.
An old man, wearing a grey security uniform, took us up through the forest past old dying azaleas and newly planted ones, along a narrow trail climbing up the hill. Here, away from most the visitors, the trees were bigger and the flowers more vibrant. We reached the top and then scanned below, across the valley and up to the ridge, where other trees grew. Then we walked down, past a nursery with azaleas in large pots, to the main entrance. The old man asked around for a ride back into town for us, and found there might be a truck laden with dirt or trees heading that way. We didn't have to wait too long, as a family, with a basket full of fern fronds, was about to leave. One half the group left in a modern Pajero. We left in a mini-van, our seats above the rear axle, feeling every contour of the road, as the dust bloomed in.
Total price for the trip for two people (not including homemade wholemeal bread sandwiches): around $US10.
Total cost for now knowing difference between azaleas and rhododendrons: priceless.
Mental note to self: next year, go earlier.
74 votes 
This is a top pick!
