A rose garden blooms while other plants languish
I never knew that I wanted a rose garden … until I had
one.
First off, you must know that I love plants, but it has taken me
the better part of 25 years to really figure out how to grow them.
Some still baffle me
– I can’t for the life of me get certain indoor orchids to
rebloom, while other people seem to be able to do it with the
greatest of ease.
A rose garden blooms while other plants languish
I never knew that I wanted a rose garden … until I had one.
First off, you must know that I love plants, but it has taken me the better part of 25 years to really figure out how to grow them. Some still baffle me – I can’t for the life of me get certain indoor orchids to rebloom, while other people seem to be able to do it with the greatest of ease.
I am not really all that good at vegetables either. That’s why I’ve pretty much given up on everything but tomatoes, because summer is not summer without homegrown tomatoes. I grow them in wine half-barrels on my patio so that I don’t have to deal with the gophers and moles that run rampant throughout my yard.
But I am very good at drought-resistant plants, the natives like ceanothus and penstemon, and the imports like New Zealand flax and pride of Madeira. Succulents, too, grow like weeds in my yard. Anything that can stand some neglect does great in my garden.
But for a long time I puzzled over the rose question.
I had inherited a few rose bushes along with the house that I’ve lived in since 1985. However, I didn’t know the roses were there for a while, because the weeds were so high.
Once I found the roses, I went about learning to take care of them, and while they didn’t exactly thrive – I had a bad habit of forgetting to water them in the summer – they survived.
On and off, I planted various other things around the roses and nothing seemed to do well for long. The one plant that did grow turned out to be an invasive species that I eventually had to dig up and destroy (much to my dismay).
And then my boyfriend gave me roses.
Well, that sounds more romantic than it actually was. What happened recently is that his mother had to go into a nursing home and he was worried that all her roses would die. So I dug up the ones that looked the most delicate and brought them home with me.
They languished in containers for a while as I tried to figure out what I should do with them. Should I give them away? Should I plant them? Finally I decided I couldn’t bear to part with them and planted them near the other four rose bushes on the sunny side of the house.
And then it struck me: Why fool around with other plants when I could have my very own rose garden?
It was not anything I had previously aspired to. No one had ever promised me a rose garden, and yet there it was.
So I planted the roses – two were an heirloom variety called Louise Odier, deep pink with a heavenly scent – and the other, a very pretty hybrid tea variety I haven’t yet identified.
And so because there were a few gaps to fill in, I bought a yellow rose (another one I can’t recall the name of), and a rosy-orange one called Arizona Sunset, and an extravagant purple one called Lavender Girl.
All the roses are incredibly happy and are blooming their fool heads off.
What’s really wonderful is that when I take a break during the day, or I just want to feel better about something, I can go to the living room window and look at the roses.
Granted, my garden is nowhere near as grand as some I’ve seen around town, but it works just fine for me.
And yes, I’m remembering to water them. Finally.
