When rose bushes go bonkers

This year there have been two flowers, I repeat ‘two’, instead of the usual  three million, four hundred and ninety-eight, roughly, that we expect each spring, nor are there signs of any others. Maybe a late frost killed the buds – we haven’t had lower temperatures than usual, but the frost damage has been worse in the clear dry air. But basically, the roses in our garden have gone bonkers.

Parson’s monthly was the first of our roses to bloom this year: three flowers, and none since, instead of about 300. Climbing Albertine should have a vast display of roses by now- there are three, but at least there are plenty of fat buds that promise roses to come, even if belated.Because of the nights, perhaps, even though we’ve had hot days? Nor are there any single butterfly like Mutablilis, usually in first full flush by now.

But the Wife of Bath (flesh coloured, fragrant) is suddenly abundant. Well, she would be, wouldn’t she? There’s not much that daunted the first ‘Wife of Bath’.). The single red flowers that grew from the rootstocks of long since deceased rose are twining their way up the silver pear and lemon verbena, which they aren’t supposed to do for weeks yet. And Souvenier de la Malmaison is flowering, spicy and fragrant and delicious outside my study.

The trouble is that we have little idea exactly what stimulates blooming in many of the species we grow. In some it is day length, in other temperature. Our lychee tree did nothing until we had a wet year, when the fruit unexpectedly starting dropping basket loads of fruit on us. It turned out that lychees don’t mind cold winters at all- but do like tropical style rainstorms. Another tropical fruit (rare, like a round pineapple, tastes of passionfruit- let me know if you have any idea what is, as I planted it two decades ago then forgot about it totally) fruited too, in sweet abundance, and then hasn’t again so I can’t even look up a few ‘possibles’ to see if which might be it.

But this year’s rose behaviour is odd. I can forgive the rhododendron not blooming this year- it does need some moisture for abundance. But roses have proved one of the hardiest blooms in our garden, flowering through droughts, even if the roses have dropped their petals after a few days, either on the bush or in the vase. (If you want long lasting cut roses, make sure they are well fed and well-watered, both before cutting and in the vase- regular replacement with fresh water in a vase is a must).

Even our Climbing Iceberg has only given us a few white splotches up on the pergola, though that may be caused by the possum’s protest about our cutting down his favourite loquat tree. (He does still have three left, all to himself). But even he can’t have eaten all the banksia rose buds. Not as he’s also munched all the leaves from my favourite avocado tree too, and the top half of the cumquat.

Sometimes- just sometimes- I long for formal rose garden, long lines of standard Papa Meiland’s and Mr Lincoln’s, and an avenue of Peace. Sadly, we have yet to find any fencing that will keep wallabies off rose bush- or not permanently. We are limited to roses that can clamber quickly out of wallaby reach. But the hypothetical rose garden would probably be on strike, too, hoping for water and a spring that gradually warms, instead of swinging from snow to heat waves?

Meanwhile I am out to pick a bunch of Wife of Bath, and check the buds on the parchment coloured Buff Beauty. If usually doesn’t flower for us till late spring, and should forgive us. But if there is no Climbing Papa Meiland for Bryan to pick on my birthday (deep red and the scent of paradise) I shall feel exceedingly let down.

This week I am:

. Looking for suspiciously green patches in what we call ‘lawn’, the wombats call dinner’, and any competent lawn specialist would call ‘a mess.’ Those light green patches are almost certainly bindii eyes that will stick their prickles in unwary bare feet come summer. They are fairly easily killed with a kettle or two of boiling water poured on them.

. Feeling smug- a third of the azalea flowers have not been eaten by the wallaby. This either means that for the first time ever, my yelling has dissuaded a wallaby from its chosen dessert, or, or more likely, half a bush of flowers was enough for its palate.

. Gloating over fat purple asparagus. Still.

. Reminding myself than many avocado trees lose most of their leaves when they bloom, so are not necessarily dying. (Avocado trees also lose their leaves when they have root rot or have had too little water for too long.)

. Watching the spring chickens become spring chooks. Hopefully they will be laying in a month or so.

. Still not planting tomatoes, basil, beans, cucumbers and other necessities even in a drought. Next week. Maybe.