weekly bloom: rose gardens

Late again. This whole weekly blogging thing doesn't seem to be working great, does it? (Okay, when I wrote this post, I wasn't that late; I wrote this on Tuesday. Double oops.) In my defense, it was a super busy weekend: the Spanish Inquisition had her first birthday party (meaning that it was her first birthday, and also that it was the first of multiple parties), and both Pd and I were completely knackered afterwards. It's amazing how tiring a baby birthday party can be. And we are still doing the work-home-work thing to bridge the time until daycare; she goes in next week. So I went to work the first two days of this week, trying frantically to do in two days what should be done in five or seven (Not Going to Happen), and trying not to fall asleep — the Spanish Inquisition having relapsed slightly wrt the sleeping through the night thing, and my back has been hurting enough, lately, that it's hard for me to fall back asleep quickly. My body likes to be ironic about things like that.

So! the garden. Which is not going so great, really, except for the roses. It's been so hot and arid this summer; the roses are loving it, but everything else is parched. Something Will Have To Be Done, but what remains to be seen.


The 'Amber Sun' roses are living up to their promise of continual bloom, and I still love them. They start out that lovely bright vermillion color, and quickly get bleached by the sun to an almost butter white.




'The Fairy' roses have also been blooming like gangbusters. They are not really anything to look at, individually, but the amassed effect is lovely.

Sadly, the 'Graham Thomas' ones did not bloom this year. Bu the plant seems to be vigorous nonetheless, so I live in hope.

In the back: the scabrosa, which is turning into the Plant That Ate Everything — one has essentially crushed the columbines, and the other has chased the rhubarb away by turning what was hitherto the sunniest part of the garden in deep shade. (The rhubarb has tried to move into an empty patch that once had geraniums, but as it must navigate between the Scylla of the strawberries and the Charybdis of the main scabrosa to get there, I consider it essentially a rearguard action.)


Can you see how the bunches of bloom are so heavy, they literally weigh everything down?








The mystery double roses, which I still love, although they are essentially done for the season.


And my least favourite roses, the rugosas. The colour isn't really my thing. But it is so hot, and most of my new plants have died, so I can't complain, really. I haven't been able to deadhead them because I haven't been able to reach them — they are behind the scabrosas, and I prefer my skin to be unscratched — so unfortunately they do start turning into a mess as the heavy blooms dry up.


It's odd. I had thought that the roses would be the hardest thing in the garden plan; I paid a lot of attention, tried to some research, and then prayed that I wouldn't kill more than one or two. (This, I am told, is usually called the "learning curve.") But they've been so accommodating; meanwhile, I think I may have killed even the Japanese anemone. And I may have accidentally transplanted my herb garden into deep to partial shade (rather than full to partial sun, as intended). It's a little like knitting, I guess — I was horrible at knitting scarves, I never pay attention and something weird always happens, but I specialise in intricate, cabled socks. My brain requires a challenge, apparently. Either that, or I should just learn to give things my full attention instead of attempting to coast.