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Dr. Leda's Rose Journal |
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Dr. Leda Dips Into Her Mail Bag
...And produces scintillating answers to the world's burning rose questions.
By Dr. Leda Horticulture, O. R.
June 1, 2002
Dear Dr. Leda:
You often say growing roses is good therapy, but I'm afraid it has sent my already neurotic daughter-in-law ("Beth") around the bend. Do you know what she's done now? She has actually gone up to each of her rose bushes and carefully cut the diseased spots out of the leaves! The holes are perfectly round, so I think she used a large hole punch. I'm all for avoiding chemicals, but don't you think this is just a wee bit...nuts?
— Worried in Woodacre
Dear Worried:
Oh my. Do sit down and take a deep breath. If your daughter-in-law is being driven crazy, perhaps we should consider other factors than her rose hobby.
As long as you're seeing perfect little circles (as opposed to paper-doll shapes), the odds are very good that "Beth" will not be turning up on the cover of Hopelessly Abnormal Psychology any time soon. I'm willing to bet my beloved #2 Felco pruners that, rather than an over-zealous gardener wielding a hole punch, the vandal turns out to be leaf cutter bees.
These clever members of the genus Megachile use their tiny scissor-like mandibles to carve precisely elliptical slices of tissue from the sides of leaves which the female uses to line the burrows of her nest. Roses and Wisteria are favorite sources, and the leaf cutters prefer the dull leaves of old garden roses over the shiny leaves of many modern hybrids. The elegantly precise cutouts don't damage the overall health of the plant, and the bees make up for their vandalism by generously pollinating the garden.
In hopes of nipping further psychiatric suspicions in the proverbial bud, let me hasten to add that no, your daughter-in-law did not randomly splatter "Thrill of Brazil" nail polish all over her rose petals--the unusual speckling is probably caused by the fungal botrytis blight. Nor has she been covertly "hocking loogies" on the stems. Those unsightly but harmless gobs of foam are produced by the aptly named spittle bug.
Dear Dr. Leda:
I noticed on your virtual garden tour last month that you grow other flowers besides roses. How do you choose companion plants? Are there certain color-combination rules I should follow?
— Novice in Nevada
Dear Novice,
As long as the companion plants share the same cultural requirements as roses (sun, water, feeding, etc.), what you select is a matter of taste. Volumes have been written on the subject, and while some gardeners prefer to follow conventional guidelines, others ('allo! c'est moi!) plant with exuberant and reckless abandon. I encourage you to be bold and creative and playful. Have fun experimenting with colors and textures and shapes. In the beginning you may be tempted to copy gardens you see in books, but eventually you'll develop your own style.
Since you asked how I choose my companion plants, I must confess that I am enslaved by two appetites. First, I absolutely must have anything that adds blue to the rose beds. Blue is the one color missing from the roses themselves. I make lavish use of blue clematis, irises, hydrangeas, sweet peas, plumbago, butterfly bush, even an occasional tacky blue bowling ball.
One of the most reliable sources of long-blooming summer blue is the salvias. I'm especially enamored of Salvia 'Blue Spires' with its long sinuous stalks that snake gracefully through the roses, mingling and caressing and complementing everything in sight. Salvia nemerosa 'May Night' is another favorite, stunning in masses and the perfect height for hiding bare rose ankles.
My second obsession (this is very personal but hey, you asked) is that I grow weak in the knees around big, studly "lust-bucket" flowers. I simply can't resist those startlingly blatant reminders of every flower's true mission, nature's lewd exhibitionists who shamelessly flaunt their well-endowed pistils and stamens.
There is some risk that their juxtaposition with roses may cause the latter to look quaintly demure and dowdy, reminiscent of a straight-laced high-collared missionary thrust incongruously beside some brazen Miss July sprawled wantonly across a centerfold. But I have a theory that when "sluts" are planted next to "good girls" they exert a "bad" (in this case, good) influence, provoking the vain and competitive roses to cast aside propriety in favor of a frenzied promiscuity of bloom. I'm currently attempting to corrupt my roses with several torrid orgies of 'Star Gazer' lilies, and so many dinner-plate Hibiscuses, the yard looks like a herd of stop signs with reproductive organs.
Now, after that, aren't you ready to run out and discover your own style?
Dear Dr. Leda:
Can you tell me how far apart to space roses and other plants? Incidentally, I think I may be in love with you. Do you look anything like Isabella Rossellini?
— Smitten in St. Louis
Dear Smitten:
Why you adorable person! Yes, of course I do. Almost exactly.
Now, on to the facts. Unless you are cultivating roses for sale or for exhibition, aesthetics are best served by avoiding great gaping spaces between plants. Your garden should speak of bounty and abundance. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe the mulch beneath your roses should, like any proper foundation garment, be intimately private and invisible to the public eye. Yes, in the helter-skelter world of gardening, quivering pistils and throbbing stamens are rated PG, but if everyone can see your mulch, good heavens man, it's time to go shopping for filler plants!
