Roses have always been one of those plants that test your patience . And this year they tested mine more than usual.
My climbing red rose is gone. Not completely – the roots likely survived, and there are already young shoots coming up from the base. This rose was already large and magnificent, covered the arch and made me genuinely proud every time it bloomed and feel myself in the fairytale. But it didn't make it through the winter. It was a hard one this year, harder than usual.
I'm not going to pretend it's not sad. It is. I had been growing it for years. There's something particularly painful about losing a plant you've watched develop season by season. Really it's not just about a plant, it's about my time, my care, my small daily victories over aphids.
Meanwhile, the pink roses near the summer house are doing beautifully. I wrote about them recently, still can't quite believe how well they came back after last year's hard pruning and this year's cold. And now two floribundas have started blooming as well. Different shapes, softer colours, but just as welcome.
So the garden gives and the garden takes. This season it took the red climber and gave me everything else in return.
I'll take that deal. Reluctantly, but I'll take it 🌹
