New spikes of foxglove are withstanding the winds and rains of the bad days and extending their vertical presences right up inside the pink climbing rose on the fine bright days.
I should not trash the rains altogether. This year I'm trying a new organic rose & flower food in the borders, and there can be no doubt that the rains send it down to the roots with special effectiveness, beyond the powers of mere hose-watering.
Even the rogue rosebush (more like a wild rose than a tame rose) offers a more respectable showing than it ever has before. Several years ago it sprang all unbidden out of the root onto which a commercial hybrid rose had been grafted, after that commercial rose was carelessly destroyed by some laborers. I have steadily argued for digging out the root and putting in a new bush of known provenance, but my daughter has persisted in defending this brave vegetable evidence of a lofty spirit, and now – just like in the movies where the runt always triumphs in the end after many vicissitudes – her faith is justified.
