after 18 months, my peggy martin rose finally blooms
When I first planted my 'Peggy Martin' climbing rose, I remembered my grandmother’s garden—her roses were always in full bloom by early summer, their scent drifting through the open windows. But here in my North Carolina backyard, things didn’t go as planned. For a year and a half, I watched this so-called "easy" rose struggle, its canes reaching but never flowering. My neighbors, who swear by modern hybrids and chemical boosters, would shake their heads and suggest I rip it out.
But I held on, clinging to the old ways—mulching with pine needles, pruning by the moon, talking to the canes like my mother did. Maybe it’s stubbornness, or maybe it’s faith in tradition. This spring, after a mild winter and a wet March, the first clusters of pink finally appeared. I almost cried.
Now, as the blooms spill over the fence, I wonder: Are we losing patience in our rush for instant results? My rose is a living argument between old and new, between letting nature take its course and forcing quick fixes. Some in my community think I’m wasting space with a "slow" plant, while others stop to admire the old-fashioned beauty.
Does your garden follow the old rules, or do you chase the latest trends? And in a world of HOA guidelines and climate extremes, do we still have the freedom to grow what heals us?
#gardeningmemories #roses #oldvsnew #Gardening
