The Myth of the Outward-facing Bud

I pruned the roses on Friday – a lovely, sunny dry day that appeared like a miracle between snowstorms.  Enough of this snow in Seattle!

            As I pruned, I looked for the outward-facing bud that we are told to find and prune above.  I don’t think they exist.  Is this some joke the roses are playing on us?  Buds face inward, off to awkward angles on the side, but I never see any that face outward.  As I tend to be fairly fierce in my rose pruning, I suppose it doesn’t really matter.  After a while I don’t care what kind of bud is or isn’t there, my Felcos go to work.

            In England, land of “rose replant disease”, they’re just as likely to rip the whole rose garden out as to prune carefully (or not) each year.  I don’t really understand what rose replant disease is, but I believe it has something to do with monoculture – those rose-bush ghettos, where a confetti mix of colors are planted for display, must be ripe for an attack of some fungus or another.  I love rose gardens for their historical interest, but it isn’t something I’m going to copy in my garden.  I’m not a rosarian, just a gardener.

            Last time we were at Hever Castle, they had just replanted the rose garden, and as it was May, there was little to see.  Against the wall, however, was a ‘Maigold’ climber in bloom – it’s practically the only rose we see blooming in England in May.  In fact one May, we visited Hodges Barn near Tetbury – a lovely place where Amanda Hornby showed us around her garden.  The house (originally a dovecote) was surrounded by brick walls that had rambling roses carefully pegged down, and the ramblers were full of buds, but not a flower was open.

            When pruning ramblers and climbers, you never have to worry about outward-facing buds.  Instead, if you secure the long, wild stems horizontally (pegged on a brick wall at Hodges Barn), the roses send up loads of flowers all along.  It’s a spectacular show.

Gardening isn’t going away

I don’t know what all the fuss is about; gardening isn’t going to disappear, even though garden writers seem to be wringing their hands over the prospect.  I believe that there are gateway plants, and we are at the tip of a new gardening cycle.  Plant a potato today, and tomorrow it will be an aster, the next day a hydrangea after that a paperbark maple.  Do you think that Edwin Lutyens and Gertrude Jekyll said, “Oh dear, gardening is on the decline, so let’s just not talk about lavender anymore.”?  Did Christopher Lloyd care that you don’t know what an Aeonium is?

            OK, he probably did care, because he was a good garden educator, witty and opinionated.  I still pick up his books and begin to read them, often going over the same passages again and again.  My favorites are The Well-Tempered Garden, Christopher Lloyd’s Garden Flowers and, with Beth Chatto, Dear Friend and Gardener.  His home and garden, Great Dixter, are open to the public, so although he died a few years ago, he’s still teaching us to be daring in the garden.

            Geoffrey Smith, a UK gardener, writer and broadcaster, just died last week, and I include him here when talking about how gardening will continue.  I just listened to Friday’s broadcast of Gardeners’ Question Time on BBC Radio 4 and they included a tribute to Geoffrey Smith.  I love his Yorkshire accent, and appreciate his ability to cut to the chase.  Good writers and speakers are good, no matter if their topic is gardening or politics (although given the choice, gardening is much more interesting to read about).

            Gardeners and gardens abide.