Step 1. Admit you need roses in your life. Yes, I know that native plants survive best in droughts ... except often they don't. A mature native shrub's response to drought is a very sensible 'seed and die'. A well-established rose, however, has its deep roots way down in the soil. That's why old gardens usually have roses. Roses are the great survivors.
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It's not just that roses are beautiful. They give so much, and for so long, from two months of unbelievable lavishness for the 'once a year' bloomers to the hardy 'almost never without a flower' modern hybrids, roses give more than any other ornamental.
You need some. Trust me on this. Now, in the depths of winter, you need to be able to look forward to a flower-filled spring, filled with fragrance. Coincidentally, this is also the perfect time to get as many rose bushes as you want for free.
Step 2. Find an avid gardener. Not a specialist who adores African violets, orchids or breeding native plants - though they may very well have a rose or two. My grandfather was one of Australia's first 'natives only' gardeners - except for roses. Grandpa said roses didn't count.
Step 3. Tactfully find out what kind of roses they have, possibly over a cup of coffee and a date and lemon cake (your contribution). You don't need to know the name of the variety, just their colour and shape, when they bloom, what pruning they need....
What a coincidence! They are going to be pruned in the next couple of months. And of course no one wants to keep the prunings, as even if they are composted those big dry thorns may survive to bite someone. Now about those prunings ...
Step 4. Buy a bucket, or two buckets if you want more than three rose bushes. You can also use an old bath tub with the plug out, milk cartons with a few holes in the bottom, or plastic containers with holes in the bottom. Fill with sand....
Step 5. Dampen the sand and make sure that water doesn't build up in whatever container you've chosen. Young rose roots will rot in waterlogged soil.
Step 6. Remove any leaves or seed heads from the prunings, but make a note of which end was 'up'.
Step 7. Choose cuttings that are about 30cm. Plant them, top side up, about 13cm deep, but that's just a vague guide. You may find ones much smaller or larger grow too.
Can't remember which side was up? The thorns may be a guide, as rose thorns curve downwards, but if the cuttings aren't thorny (not all roses have thorns) and if you are really stuck, bung them in anyway. Hopefully you'll get half right, and as the cuttings were free you can afford to put in lots.
Step 8. Wait.
While you are waiting, keep the sand moist and the bucket etc. in semi shade - somewhere young roots won't cook mid-afternoon but where there is some sunlight to stimulate growth.
Step 9. Celebrate! By mid-spring you'll see the first green leaves. If you've put in six cuttings you may get six plants, or only one - it depends how vigorous the rose is - the more vigour the more cuttings will take. But only celebrate - don't plant. The cutting still needs to grow good roots. Wait a year, or at least wait till late summer to put the new rose bush carefully in the garden, or the pot in which it will grow.
Do not plant cuttings from a patented variety. How do you know if it is patented? The sky will rip and a loud voice will say...
Absolutely nothing. I don't mean to sound blasé - copyright and patents pay for the work the creators have put into them, apart from the odd opportunist's patent on a wild or traditional plant, but that is unlikely to be a rose. Never sell roses grown from cuttings unless you know what the rose is, and that it's free to use.
And that is it. It is incredibly, wonderfully easy. And your life will be full of roses, to live with, to give away - and rose bushes to give too.
This week I am:
- Thinking that the windows need washing then realising the view is obscured by an unfamiliar pale drizzle. It is raining - though only for two minutes.
- Watching the camellia leaves droop and reminding myself that everything in this garden has survived drought before, and looked worse before the end of it.
- Suffering gardening withdrawal syndrome, but this is not the year to plant anything unless you have reliable water and the ability to do the watering.
- Enjoying a friend's pumpkin surplus; also their home-grown persimmons and sweet potato harvest.
- Marvelling how new cyclamen flowers appear as the old ones slowly droop.
- Apologising to the wombats as they begin to munch the native ginger stems and other foods they do not prefer. Yes, we did mow the grass in autumn, thus leaving less for them. But this drought is not my fault. (The wombats do not believe me.)