Which is loveliest in a rose? Its coy beauty when it's budding, or its splendour when it blows? ~ George BarlowWinter ~ & we have roses. The long stamens wave wildly in the wind above the waves of asparagus that choke the bed because I don't really like roses. It is gardenias I like but when my Jossie was about 12 he moved from cacti [yuk!] to carniverous plants [interesting] to roses [hmmm] & Dearest, who is a horticulturalist [so why do I do the gardening?] set him out a rose bed & he grew roses.
Roses are fussy & we have a heavy clay soil. The kids were sent scrounging the yard for every broken brick they could find to create a suitable drainage base & we bought in piles of rich organic compost soil & spent a fortune on rose bushes.
Jossie has long since flown the coop & on the southern side of the house we have a sadly bedraggled & neglected rose bed. I don't like thorny things & roses, particularly the sort worth having because they have a rich, heady scent, have thorns. The more exotic bushes promptly curled up their toes & carked it under my tender ministrations. Most of the rest reverted to their uninteresting root stock. What remains throws long, long tendrils above the clothesline wire & on the ends, where the thorns cluster fiercest deep red buds glisten like jewels.
Yesterday I gathered handfuls of tightly curled buds & brought them inside before the wind & the rain shredded them to tatters. This morning the half~opened buds fill the house with scent. Tomorrow, full blown, their glory spent, their petals will fall but there are more, hidden & small, growing scretly to scented delight.