On Sat, 14 Jun 2003 22:51:57 GMT, "Anne Lurie"
wrote:


Also, the digging necessary to help an underperforming rose find its true
destiny would seem to be an easier task than planting said rose in the first
place.

Yet another excellent point. I had one bed professionally dug
(supposedly he drilled beyond the hardpan into the sand for drainage,
as you mentioned you did) but most of the rest were dug by me. I
learned the necessity of digging only when there had been just enough
rain--too much is as bad as not enough.

(This makes sense only for the roses that I actually planted, since
I know how big the holes were that I dug! Also, I have "seen the light" and
its name is mini-tiller!)

Do you own one, or rent one? Since you are right here in my area, I'd
love to know what you bought, where, etc.


Shovel pruning roses is, frankly, easier for me to accept than the fact that
I actually am growing roses in the first place! I was one of those people
who "hated" the smell of roses -- most likely because I'd been subjected
to the scent of Joy perfume (I think that's the one) -- I couldn't even
stand to have roses in a vase in the house!

The smell on the flower is nothing like that junk. I hate floral
smells on anything but fresh flowers. I don't even like the scent of
dried rose petals au naturel..

[...]

so I'm sure that next year, I'll be planting another Graham
Thomas and yet another Abraham Darby (now *that* fragrance could have made
me a rose fanatic years ago!)

Anne--I chose Golden Celebration over Graham Thomas (just because I
had to choose, or thought I did] and am not so thrilled with GC
because unless I am not getting up early enough, it has no real scent
to my nose. As for Abe, I ordered one, then killed it in the Infamous
Overfertilizing Incident in which Livin' Easy, Distant Drums, Angel
Wings, Radio Times, and perhaps others perished. [I am trying to
forget!] I was so distraught I had to buy THREE Abraham Darbys and
FOUR Distant Drums, just so that if it happened again there might be
survivors! I have three ADs in a vase now. They are lucious, and do
not drop their petals as quickly as some Austins. It may be a matter
of minutes, but still! G

(Actually, I may be lucky to be typing at all if I spend much more time
around Tropical Paradise -- it seems to be a prodigious thorn-producer,
but hey -- if I can get an entire vaseful of flowers by picking one stem,
what the heck?)

Hmm .. tottering off to Helpmedfind.com to look that one up.


Anne Lurie
Raleigh, NC


"Unique Too" wrote in message
...
(Shiva) writes:

My first couple of years growing roses, the very phrase "shovel prune"
rubbed me the wrong way. How damned insensitive of those wasteful
people, I thought. Especially if they announced "shovel pruning" one I
really liked, or thought I might.


And the cost. Some people talked about shovel pruning lots of roses, just
because they didn't like them. How could someone not like a rose, any
rose?
And then they just bought more, wow, what a waste of money.

Well, I think I finally understand.

I'm out there today, short on time, long on weeds, blackspot,
deadheading, and spraying. All kinds of ugly leaves, canes, insect
colonies, still roses to be potted, two more vole casualties to put to
rest. (MY FIRST Granada and their SECOND Reine des Violettes.)

I'm tired and hot as a paper pusher can be on a NC 90-degree June day.
I'm looking at the front bed, the first bed I planted. The ones that
need to go just leap out at me. George Burns. Not one more day am I
going to look at those Calvinesque (the kid, not the Reformer)
cowlicky blooms and that stumpy, ugly bush shape. Nicole. HUGE and
ungainly, pretty flowers, but NO SCENT at all. It has overpowered the
front bed for the last time.

I go back to the garage, get the permatil, gather the pots, shovel,
loppers, soil. I plan to pot both roses up, see if I can give them
away or maybe I'll just keep them in pots. I have others to put in
their place.


This is the next phase. Maybe I can baby it back to health, maybe someone
else
would like it better. Maybe it's just my climate or culteral practices.
I
won't shovel prune the rose, I'll save it.

And then it hits me--how perfectly simple and beautiful it would be to
cut them up, dig them up, and toss them out with the yard trash.
Several less things to worry about. More room for pretty roses that I
love or other dogs I want to try!


This is the next step. Why should I even bother with a rose that I don't
enjoy? Potting them up, babying them, even giving them away is extra
work, I
could be spending time with the roses I enjoy. The shovel it right there,
it
really isn't as hard or time consuming when you don't have to worry about
saving the big root ball. Garbage cans. It works. Now that plant I
never
liked or suffered from too much disease or whatever. It's gone! More
space
for roses that I will enjoy, more time to care for them properly.

There seems to be a whole circuit we travel with this rose-growing
thing, with many common stops along the way, where most of us
eventually rest, even if only for a while. I am at the one labeled
"Discover the Joy of Guiltless Shovel Pruning!"

Where are you?

Yes, we're growing. We're learning. We're searching for the perfect
roses.
I recently had this conversation with someone who had given up lots and
lots of
roses due to a move. He had reached a point where he couldn't care for
all of
them, even all of the ones he enjoyed. Now the number has been cut in
half.
He's finding more pleasure in spending time with them, seeing them at
their
best with proper care. His list of roses he "must" grow has gotten much
shorter.
That's pretty much where I am now. I'll admit there are still a lot of
roses I
really would like to have. But I'm out of space, even the less than ideal
locations have been filled. And I don't have the time to spend caring
correctly for any more. When they are treated with the best of care they
reward me with good growth and lots more pretty flowers and I enjoy them
all
the more. So now, it's one comes in, one goes out. So far I haven't had
any
problem finding the one to remove. There's always one not living up to my
expectations.
Yep, although it's initially painful, the shovel can feel real good.

Julie