Pruning (delayed)

I pruned my roses today!

3 days into the new year and my green can is almost filled with rose canes, studded with thorns and leaves green and brown.

This is an accomplishment.

I know that roses require yearly pruning and that time is January.  But I usually procastinate because there are always a few roses in bloom, promising buds, and I hate yardwork.  By the time I’m geared up to do the deed, my gardener has gone through like a bulldozer and left a few dead canes in his wake.  This leads to sadness and disappointment on my part, followed by internal recriminations and a faint hope that the roses survived the brutality.

(I prune more deliberately, opening up the center, cutting out cross canes and leaving enough so they can grown in a nice shape rather than a haphazardly dangerous mish mosh of sprouting canes from every direction with a few roses that graze the rooftops.  It’s a choice.)

I’ve been down and out this week so when the weather was beautiful and the sun was not too warm, I armored up with a flannel shirt to protect my arms, a baseball hat and sunglasses to protect my eyes, and thick gloves to protect my hands. 

I started on the side, our “secret rose garden” with Mr. Lincoln, Queen Elizabeth, and two sunny yellow roses that I haven’t identified.  Mr. Lincoln was very prolific this year so I pruned him with care and praised him for his heavily scented deep red blooms.  I saw that he’s headed into QE’s territory so took off some growth on that side.  I hope that 2021 brings more beautiful blooms – there were many years when he only gifted me with ONE, so his schedule has been sparse.  I keep him around because that one rose is perfection itself.  How could I take out a healthy Mr. Lincoln just because he’s sparing with his gifts?  Mr. Lincoln stays.

Queen Elizabeth is one vigorous rose.  Perfectly formed, deep pink, no scent to speak of, but she speaks volumes with abundance.  It took a while to work through the canes and thorns to get to the center and there were canes that laughed at my hand clippers and nipped me with thorns.  “Fine” I told her.  “I’ll be back.  But let me warn you to leave Mr. Lincoln alone.  He’s got priority.”  Her disdain was palpable as I moved onto Yellow 1 and Yellow 2.

Ms. White next to the garage is a party girl!   I think her given name is Iceberg and that family grows wild throughout the neighborhood, adorning fences, trellises, side yards and more.  In any event, she sends out deceptively delicate canes with multiple buds and offshoots.  Two perfect blossoms greeted me and I gently cut them and set them aside.  I decided to take a few buds as well, but steeled my heart against leaving the rest.  The gardener comes tomorrow and I didn’t want him touching her.  So I clipped and wrestled thorns and detangled her canes from my flannel as I brought clarity to chaos.

Queen Elizabeth 2 was waiting and I know she is as tough as her sister, so I pulled out my big clippers with the long handles.  QE1 might have regretted her pertness as I approached.  “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so rude” I said, reaching in to get a big cane.  She retaliated with whip sharp thorns that snagged my cap and arm.  I backed off and realized I needed a plan, and this time I started at the outside, pruning the medium canes and making a path to the big ones that really required a small saw.  I didn’t have a saw so it might have been a bit painful when my blades bit down, but it had to happen for her health and mine.  I left behind a nice framework with just a few raw edges….okay, sorry your highness!  I don’t have a saw and if I did I’d probably cut myself in the process so this is the best I could do.

QE2 stood still as could be and I got the job done quickly and with minimum fuss.  

I headed up front and spent a few moments loving on Double Delight.  She is my most favorite favorite rose and I’ve had her for….heavens! 30+ years!  We bought her as a container rose when we first married and transplanted her at the front of the house.  She doesn’t get enough sun (faces east) but she produces maybe half a dozen fragrant, colorful blooms that make both of us so happy.  I whispered encouragement as I cleared out very few canes and then turned to a crazy red rose that came with the house.  

I think crazy crimson was originally root stock to a tea rose, but someone or something pruned away the graft and the rootstock took off.  Long trailing canes, flat single blossoms with a dash of yellow – she does as she pleases and never comes into the house.  She lives between warring rosemary bushes and somehow has kept enough real estate to thrive.  I snipped her back, breathed in the scent of her pungent neighbors and turned to another unnamed bushy red rose.  He was in a pissy mood and slapped me hard with thorns and recalcitrant canes.  I stepped back and silently promised him a session with the big cutters.

But not today.  The green can is at least half full and the gardeners will be hard put to get all the dead leaves and seedpods in.  I decided to leave him for another day.

On my way back, I paused to greet Mr. Olympia in the neighbor’s side yard.  He’s been sadly neglected for a few years and I adopted him.  I couldn’t water my own and ignore his thirst so I’d slop a bucket or two on him and on his partner who has never produced a bloom.  Oly had some lovely blossoms and the new owners should be moving in next week, so I told him I hoped they would provide care (so far their gardeners have treated the side yard like it’s mine and the weeds are knee high).  I clipped a few final roses before I left.

I could get really deep into the symbolism of me taking charge and pruning my roses to fit my taste.  It’s not unlike taking charge of my own life and making decisions myself instead of letting others do it for me.  2020 showed how uncertain life actually is and how little control I have over it. 

I’m so fortunate to have a job, shelter, family and friends.  But life is short and I need to, I will spend 2021 shaping my future.  It’s time for me to dig in and make some choices about what is important to me and what needs to go so I can finish my life in a good place.  I want a life of purpose and impact.  2021 is going to be the year I define that and put purpose into action.  If I don’t, it will be done to me, and I’d rather shape my own life thankyouverymuch.