Roses Are Not Only Red

Roses Are Not Only Red

Previously, I had little interest in growing roses. Oh yes, take time to admire and smell them, I think I have always allowed time to sniff their fragrance. But, caring for them in a garden, I considered quite a difficult matter.

Just the mere thought of feeding and applying disease protection at regular intervals, seemed over-whelming. Investing in Peroxide, Neosporin and the First Aid Kit with an assortment of bandages for skin pricks and painful rips in my, all too sensitive skin, made growing roses less than appealing.

Recently, due to moving, I inherited eleven bushes and what do I do now? Somehow this precipitated a need to purchase another variety.

The proud owner and caregiver for hybrids, climbers, long stems, miniatures and shrub roses, I’ve discovered the care is no big deal!

Thriving in the front yard, the backyard and on the sides of the house, a small handful or two of Fertilome Rose and Flower Food with systemic insecticide once a month causes an abundant flourish. Daconil fungicide twice a month or when idleness sets in and you are in the mood to deadhead anyway, include a mist to keep them happy.

Being from the old school, I was paying close attention to the first cluster of five leaves beneath the spent bloom. No need, the newer rule of green thumb is ignore the notion. Shrub roses and Knockouts can be pruned to almost any shape and size until April 15. Severe pruning is left until fall.

Recently presented with several suggestions on pruning, tier in three or four levels, short in front, medium height in the middle and taller in the back; it seems sensible. 

Additionally, a platter shape or oval is most desirable and offers the plants much needed air-flow. I think you will be happy with the results. Of course, I am referring to hybrids, not climbers. Those need to be left to climb.  

I am pretty content as an inexperienced gardener of roses. Yellow, salmon, pink and red, each petal is gentle as a kiss. It’s never too late, an occasional poke, a prickly stick—reminders of the beauty I nearly missed.

Roses Are Not Only Red

Previously, I had little interest in growing roses. Oh yes, take time to admire and smell them, I think I have always allowed time to sniff their fragrance. But, caring for them in a garden, I considered quite a difficult matter.

Just the mere thought of feeding and applying disease protection at regular intervals, seemed over-whelming. Investing in Peroxide, Neosporin and the First Aid Kit with an assortment of bandages for skin pricks and painful rips in my, all too sensitive skin, made growing roses less than appealing.

Recently, due to moving, I inherited eleven bushes and what do I do now? Somehow this precipitated a need to purchase another variety.

The proud owner and caregiver for hybrids, climbers, long stems, miniatures and shrub roses, I’ve discovered the care is no big deal!

Thriving in the front yard, the backyard and on the sides of the house, a small handful or two of Fertilome Rose and Flower Food with systemic insecticide once a month causes an abundant flourish. Daconil fungicide twice a month or when idleness sets in and you are in the mood to deadhead anyway, include a mist to keep them happy.

Being from the old school, I was paying close attention to the first cluster of five leaves beneath the spent bloom. No need, the newer rule of green thumb is ignore the notion. Shrub roses and Knockouts can be pruned to almost any shape and size until April 15. Severe pruning is left until fall.

Recently presented with several suggestions on pruning, tier in three or four levels, short in front, medium height in the middle and taller in the back; it seems sensible.  

Additionally, a platter shape or oval is most desirable and offers the plants much needed air-flow. I think you will be happy with the results. Of course, I am referring to hybrids, not climbers. Those need to be left to climb. 

I am pretty content as an inexperienced gardener of roses. Yellow, salmon, pink and red, each petal is gentle as a kiss. It’s never too late, an occasional poke, a prickly stick—reminders of the beauty I nearly missed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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