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Rosy prospects

April 4, 2020

Rhodos seen to. (Correction to yesterday’s post: As Rhodo Dave was quick to point out, it is multi-coloured spring, beige summer, not as I reported yesterday. Fortunately it was the reporting not the feeding that was wrong. I did actually give them the right food.)

Now it’s time for the roses.

One day last summer I popped round to see my friends Erik and Catherine. They sent me home with two bags of frozen raspberries and a bouquet of roses. Unlike my garden, raspberries thrive in theirs, as do their roses. Which prompted me to ask what fertiliser they used. They told me.

A couple of days ago I rang the garden store to make an appointment. (Yes, now that we’re in plague mode, visits to the garden store are by appointment to keep the number of customers visiting at any given time down.) I arrived at my allotted time and picked up three bags of manure.

Yesterday I hauled the manure from the car and got to work in the pet cemetery. With two exceptions (Clancy’s rose and another one that marks no grave) the rose bushes are not looking happy. Surely by April there should be more growth on them. Surely? Well, maybe not. I’m not very good at monitoring these things, unlike real gardeners whom, I am told, keep track of everything in notebooks. There are the very first signs of new growth on Angie’s and Tri’s rose bushes and most of the others, but no sign of new growth whatsoever on the yellow rose, which is my favourite. (Insert sad face.)

I spend some time clearing all the fir needles away at the base of the bushes then set about spreading manure around them all. Even though I’m wearing gloves, by the time I’ve finished I can barely feel my fingers, so no point in trying to cross them for the future blooming of roses.

Did I mention it’s April? I should be sitting out on the deck or hanging out on the garden swing. Instead I come back into the house and get the fire going. During the day. I never have a fire during the day in April.

Maybe that’s all the roses need – a bit of warmth. God knows I need some. I know there’s a pandemic and all, but c’mon, weather gods, don’t be so miserable. Brrr.

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