A failed master gardener am I

My favorite roses of all time ever hands down are English roses. David Austen roses. Cabbage roses. Whatever you'd like to call them, I love them.

I used to have quite a few, before I moved to this house. In fact, back when I was moving every year I managed to dig them up and bring them with me wherever I went. Somehow, in the chaos of having children I managed to lose most of them and remove a few others.

For instance, I had a Zamora in my HOT HOT HOT sun garden that had so many thorns you literally couldn't handle it without thorn-proof gloves. Once I had kids, that one went bye-bye.

Well, not really. I dug it up and threw it out. Only, I must not have gotten the entire root ball because lo and behold the next year a new rose bush sprouted in its place. The original graft of the hybrid. Totally different rose, not cabbage-y, not thorny. Original root stock. Weird, huh?

And people say roses are hard to grow. For me, roses are hard to get rid of.

This baby has not only survived my neglect and the constant annual onslaught of the disgusting Japanese beetles, but she's managed to thrive a little. I have managed to lose and simultaneously forget her name. Sometimes I remember things when I don't need to, so I'm hoping her name comes to me while I'm strolling down the aisles at Target, shopping for toothpaste or the ever-elusive perfect Mossimo casual t-shirt.

{I REMEMBER! It's Abraham Darby. I won't forget it again.}

This year I was totally on top of things and sprayed the bushes for infestations and infections before they happened, so I'm hoping this is a good rose year for us.

So many good things happening in the garden right now. I'll do a photo pictorial this weekend and share it tomorrow.

- H