The Rose Bush from Hell

My mother gave many of my plants and bushes to me.  She was a wonderful gardener and she got it honestly from my grandfather, her father.  He lived in Charleston, West Virginia, and was an educator but he gardened for pleasure. His garden was beautiful, and even though he died before I was born, I remember his garden, especially the iris.  Mama had many plants in her yard and garden that she had gotten from his garden when she married and moved to Spartanburg. 

 I didn’t care much for gardening when I was a kid and teenager at home—most normal teenagers don’t care for pulling weeds out of the rose bed or picking green beans.  I do remember occasionally helping weed flowerbeds but it was usually under duress or guilt. 

When I married and moved to our farm, gradually I became interested in plants and having a lovely yard of my own.  Mama was more than happy to help me and give me plants.  Plant swapping is a given in the south, especially those prolific plants that have to be divided and thinned anyway.  Mama was always ready with advice and suggestions for planting and cultivating and I am grateful for that and that I listened.

Mama had a favorite rose bush that was rooted from a cutting from her father’s garden in West Virginia.  It is the 1932 New Dawn Rambling Rose.  And it was a new rose bush in 1932 when Grandfather acquired it for his garden.  I saw this rose in the rose garden at Biltmore Gardens when my son and daughter-in-law took me there for a Mother’s Day gift to see the Downton Abbey costume display.  Anyway, the 1932 New Dawn Rose is there and even if I do say so myself, Biltmore’s rose bush doesn’t have anything on mine. 

But my rose bush has quite a story.  NOW, it has a place of honor in my garden, neatly trained on a sturdy iron trellis crafted by a local iron craftsman, Ed Simmons.  It wasn’t always on that trellis though.

When Mama first gave me the rose bush which she had rooted for me, she told me it needed “room”, so we planted it near the pasture fence located where our vegetable garden is now. But then, over 45 years ago, it was in a remote part of the yard, near the fence, and had the run of the place.  I failed to mention that my version of the New Dawn Rose is a rambler—not a climber.  There is a difference.  A climber rose basically will send shoots UP and can be trained on a vertical trellis easily.  A rambler does just that—it rambles. It sends out long canes in a horizontal direction and if these canes are on the ground, they will easily root and send out more shoots.

Over the years, the bush had gotten so big that rabbits made beds in it; birds nested in it, and was literally the size of a small living room.  Really.  Our oldest son was convinced that it was the rose bush in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimn, where one descended under the bush into the ground.  I also failed to mention that this rose has large, ferocious thorns.  Between the canes that shoot out and the thorns, and the size of the bush, it reminded one of an animated tree in a Disney movie.  Everything would be fine until Harry mowed the grass.  He hated that rose bush!  Understandably so. Invariably, thorns would attack him as he tried to keep it tamed with the mower.  I’d hear him complain about the Rose Bush from Hell as he dubbed it …as I doctored his wounds.

Finally, I consented to let him dig most of it up and transplant it along the side of a newly constructed hay storage barn.  I was fine with that because it would be out of the way, look nice against the barn wall, and be out of the yard where he had to mow.  So, New Dawn got moved to the new barn where she flourished and grew for about four years. 

My mother passed away in 1991 and the plants and bushes she had given me were a comfort.  As long as I had her rocks and her plants, I had a part of her with me always.  Anyone who has lost someone can understand how possessions or objects belonging to that person become important and cherished.

One day, I came home from school and saw that along the length of the hay barn, a big swath of dirt had been moved and the dirt laid bare.  My rose bush was gone! Nothing but a big scar of red dirt remained.  My father-in-law, bless his heart, had decided that water was running into the barn and would damage the hay, so his solution was to have a bulldozer operator from down the street come up and do some repair work.

I loved my father-in-law, but I was angry, hurt, and devastated that my rose bush was gone!  I understood that water didn’t need to get in the hay barn, but couldn’t he have at least waited until I could move the rose bush?  Well, McMillan men are not known for their foresight when it comes to bushes.  Harry’s mother loves to tell about the time she came home to find her prized camellias pruned to the ground with the chain saw by this same man.  That’s another blog. 

Anyway, I was so hurt and crushed.  By this time, Mama’s yard was not the same as it was when she was living and there was no chance of going to her house and getting another cutting from the bush.  So I mourned her and the rose bush for several weeks.   Then one day, I happened to be walking in the yard and ventured down near the barn where the bush had been—I’m sure that I wanted revisit my anger and hurt and truth be told  --POUT.   But like a phoenix rising up from the ashes, what did I see but sprigs of the rose bush coming up bold and strong out of the ground!  Several nice sprouts were coming up and I knew then that this rose bush was going to survive!  What a testament to resilience and hardiness!   It was then that I determined that the bush was going to be moved to a spot where I could protect it and not worry that it would be bulldozed again.

So, I found the trellis which Harry placed in the ground for me and transplanted the rose bush.   I wish I could say that all was wonderful and pleasant after that. But even though I had transplanted the rose bush and had her in a safe place, I had not changed anything genetically in the rose bush’s DNA. She still had thorns and she still had those accursed rambles.   So, even though she had been in this spot for at least 20 years, she had to routinely get pruned way back, which only encouraged her to send out even more thorny rambles.   And I still had to make sure that the rambles were contained within the garden and trellis so that when Harry mowed the yard, the Rose from Hell wouldn’t attack him.  Still, she did well there and provided many years of beautiful blooms that start out a deep pink and gradually as the buds open, become snow white.  The fragrance of the blooms is wonderfully strong and powerful, not like some of the more grand roses bushes that are all show and no smell.

Sometime in early fall 2017, we had one of those freak thunderstorms with high winds that did some damage in the area. The rose bush was a casualty. The wind was so strong that is was blown off the trellis and so damaged that there was no way to get it back where it belonged.   So, unbelievable still to me, I invited Harry to help me really prune the bush back and start over.  We armed ourselves with the best leather work gloves we own, long sleeves, and good shoes.  This rose bush doesn’t play!  After several hours, we had New Dawn really trimmed up with a lot of dead wood and old canes removed.  I was worried that we had really trimmed her up too much, but why would I question the ability of this rose to resurrect itself?  

Now, while she won’t have the profusion of blooms she usually has, this spring she does look healthier and stronger for the pruning.  

And if the reader would like to have her own Rose from Hell, or 1932 New Dawn, I have several cuttings ready to go.  The bush is easy to root. I guess that’s why all my grandfather’s children had one in their yard.  I root it simply by taking one of the rambling shoots and burying a portion of it in an old pot, covering it with dirt, weighing it down with a rock, watering it often, and just waiting a couple of months. Pretty soon, it will be rooted and another plant will be ready to go.

Just like Mama’s 1932 New Dawn Rose, we all need pruning from time to time.  God reminds us that pruning is good for plants and good for the soul. Jesus was very specific about the benefits of pruning and discarding what is not productive.

 We can all stand to have Him help us prune out the bad, diseased wood that is not productive and not good for us.  Pruning exposes new wood and encourages new growth.  Pruning makes way for renewal and restoration.  Pruning strengthens the plant and helps it prepare for the blooming or growing season.  Pruning strengthens us and gets us ready for what is coming.

And just like the rose bush, life has thorns. I’m thankful that the fragrant blooms of New Dawn remind us that even in the midst of trouble, we can still find beauty.