June is the month of the rose. Everywhere I look, my
roses are at the peak of their season. My vintage New Dawn climbing rose, with
its delicate pink—almost white petals, and its delicate, sweet fragrance, makes
me feel like a princess. Specifically, Princess Sleeping Beauty, as the rose
grows and climbs and clambers over the roof, obscuring windows and doors and
–if I had them—castle walls. Every couple of years I must put on my armor and
grab my sword and go out to battle the advancing canes. No matter how severe of
a haircut I give it, it bounces back, better than ever.
Which is a good thing, because rose-growing is not my
specialty. Roses can be picky. They get mildew and black spots, and rust, and
aphids, and don’t even get me started on elk damage; over the years, most of
the roses I purchased have been reverted to root stock by greedy elk.
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| New Dawn |
What is root stock, you may be asking? Most roses you
buy are not growing on their “own” roots, but rather grafted onto a set of
roots already growing. It’s a very efficient way for a nursery to have large
plants to sell in a shorter amount of time. If you look closely at the roses,
you can usually see a “knot” or graft area. Above is the rose you fell in love
with, all colorful and fragrant, and below the knot is the hardy root
stock—usually not fragrant. Should freezing winters or browsing elk overwhelm
your chosen rose, spring will bring the rootstock out in force. Mine tend to be
rusty-burgundy in color, little or no fragrance, and have few thorns. Which is
a plus when I rip them out in a fit of pique.
Years ago, Gerry Hird advised me to plant grafted
roses a little deeper so the “knot” was just below the soil and to mulch them
during the winter. The only cure I’ve found for the elk problem is to take a
cutting of the rose I bought, root it, plant it and--since it is growing on its
“own” roots—when the elk eat it, they won’t kill it or revert it to root-stock.
A win/win, I suppose.
