Earlier this summer I coughed up 35 bucks to participate in a "design tour" given by a local nursery’s landscaping department. I thought they were a little nervy asking us to pay for an all-day advertisement for their services, but I paid anyway and it was worth it.
Our first stop was a large garden tumbling down the banks of a lovely river and when I asked the guide what it had cost he said, "About a quarter." Me, I don’t live in a world where people spend a quarter million dollars on their gardens, so I just nodded knowingly.
Fortunately the rest of the gardens were more in my league and I acquired a new goal in life: get me one of those "Knockout" roses - today. We’d seen scores of them and they won me over with their plentiful blooms, nice shrubby shape and size - about 4 by 4 - and perfect foliage. They don’t even need full sun. I came home with one that blooms hot pink (the other choices were red and blush pink) and I’ve got to say it’s lived up to its billing. In its first year it bloomed continually, grew a lot, and in September still has those perfect little leaves. And all that reblooming was without deadheading.
And while we’re on the subject of extremely low maintenance roses, there’s one other rose our guides recommended that day - the groundcover "Flower Carpet". (No, I’m not getting paid for this but that’s not a bad idea.) My neighbors happen to have these so I can report that they’re also disease-free and still blooming their guts out.
I’m feeling particularly appreciative of these advances in rose breeding because lately I’ve been seeing so many pitiful-looking hybrid teas. Neighbors and coachees ask me how to make them look better and I suggest replacing them - please. At least here in the land of hot and humid summers, hybrid teas look like crap most of the time, even if you spray them every week with fungicide, and who wants to do that?? And I’m only mouthing off on the subject because I’ve been there myself. I’ve tried and later ripped out six roses that I can remember and probably others I’ve forgotten, including two of the much-heralded David Austin roses. But that was before I discovered roses that refuse to fail.
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