If only sweat were irrigation...: Climbing Roses

Showing posts with label Climbing Roses. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Pruning a climbing Tea

I’ll start out by saying that she used to be bigger than this and much prettier. 2012 was a bad year for ‘Maman Cochet, Climbing’. I used to only blame the squirrels, but as of today I blame the gardener, too, and I’ll be frank. This rose scared me. Tending to her even in my timid way meant getting shredded, and I was afraid if I cut her too much she would die. “Teas don’t like pruning!” is a constant refrain out there on the rose internet, and the only reason I took pruner in hand today was that I know a real, live person who grows MC, Climbing who prunes her side shoots the same way as other climbers - and does it twice a year to keep her in check even in Zone 7B North Carolina. She says she's no expert, but she's smarter than me! Thanks, Meredith.

She was thin, rangy and had had a lot of dead wood cut out of her at summer's end.

Looking back from the arbor, you can see her canes were going everywhere, and it was advisable to duck when venturing through her area.

There was still lots of dead wood on top of the arbor. Timidity really prevailed after the last cutting binge when live wood looked just like dead wood. Uh-oh.

The wood trellis is 8 feet tall and 12 feet wide. Her canes flopped toward the house and seemed to be eager to devour my neighbor's house. To the right she reaches another 5 feet beyond the trellis, and to the left over the arbor she goes another 8 feet easy. And as to height, my guess would be 17 feet and waving.

Looking up into that mess, all I knew to do was try to follow the canes to the base and start cutting above the third budeye.

I saved this side for last. These canes are reaching out at me big-time. Side shoots break all along her canes and then grow 8, 10, 12 feet long... and then they do the same.

At one time the growth over this arbor was a thing of beauty. I knew in my head that the old wood of climbers needed to be cut out regularly, but my head was good at ignoring what she couldn't figure out how to deal with.

There are half a dozen really long canes from the arbor hanging over the A/C unit.

More long canes reaching to the back and over both sides of the fence.

There are a bunch of side shoots up there.

You literally cannot touch her without getting stuck. More accurately, hooked and sharply.

Amazingly, the thought never crossed my mind to apply the loppers to her base.

My head and shoulders had to go up in there, step by step on the ladder. Gives multi-tasking a whole new meaning.

Mommy, what did you do?

I think your scrolling finger is going to cramp up. Sorry.

Oh, that looks painful. Poor baby.

This was my questionable area. The rules say don't shorten the main cane, only the laterals, but those canes to the left hang out five feet past the trellis over the grill and in a few months will have long laterals hanging off them. I tried sending them in a u-turn but already knew her stiff canes wouldn't do that. So I nipped one at a sprouted budeye and told it that it was now officially the new main cane. The others I'm still thinking about.

The bird netting did a decent job of dissuading the squirrels from making her the fast-food stop on their fence-highway. I found one dangling by his toenails (literally) but was too lily-livered to finish the execution. Turns out he got away, but he must have warned his buddies. After that, I didn't see many squirrels on Mama's trellis.

There are many, many swollen budeyes on those short laterals, so I'm hoping she will bush out like all the other pruned roses.

Her center portion over the base took a real hit last year. I'm hoping it wasn't because a clematis vine was growing up into her canopy. It wasn't a monster clem, only six to eight feet tall.

I just plain had to chop her long main canes over the arbor. What else could I do? They don't do well hanging down toward the ground, and the roof is not an option.

The bungee is temporary :)) She still wants to eat the orange house. I should let her.

The white rope is my version of a pulley system to hoist her heavy, prickled canes up high enough to walk under. I know someone who leases big cranes. I'll have to give her a call.

She doesn't look too bad, ya think?

When I was shortening laterals at the right side of this photo, I was finding perfectly live, long canes already cut off, and I was ticked that I had cut something that was alive, thinking it was dead. Then it hit me. They were the cut laterals from over the arbor! Still sad but definitely necessary. I was pulling canes out by the yard.

All neat and tidy. And no torn flesh on my body. I was so smart this time. Of course, I wore the gauntlets but also long sleeves - a first! The shirt got hooked lots of times by prickles that wouldn't let go. So glad it wasn't my arms. Gosh, that's so painful.

Oops. Looks like I missed one.

I'll keep you posted as the laterals grow out. I'm thinking she'll need a comb-over for a rather big bare spot.

This one pile is about the size of a twin bed. I know absolutely that I cut off 40 really long canes, probably more than that, but stop and think about it. She must been struggling to find enough energy to support all that growth. And not succeeding. Which was evident in her sad condition.

So I have a strong feeling that Mama Cochet does not hate me now. I feel like she’s glad I showed her the tough love that she’s been needing and suffering without. Here's to a glorious spring! after the forecast of below-freezing temps this weekend. The groundhog was flat wrong, but I'm praying he was right.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

‘Francois Juranville’ cascading

I’m fairly certain other gardeners don’t let him cascade off the arbor like this, but then they probably pay more attention to their gardens than I have lately. This scene struck me as rather idyllic when I walked through it with the camera. I’m not sure what I will do with FJ besides getting out the ladder again. I could trim him in the middle for pedestrian traffic (not much of that here) and leave the sides longish as well as sticking him up in the trees again. You can see that the first attempt was partially successful. Some canes did fall out of the tree, but most of what’s hanging is new growth.

In case you forgot ‘Francois Juranville’ is a once-blooming Rambler, having a huge flush in the spring – they say. Haven’t seen one yet, but this was only his first spring after planting. He had a few unimpressive flowers. Hopefully, next spring he’ll begin to strut his stuff a little better. I mainly just wanted something – anything - to cover that rebar arbor with green, so flowers in the spring are a bonus. FJ is very disease-resistant – even disease-free. And he has a long reach.

Here’s the land of the giants. The ‘Giant Apostle’s Irises’ are even more gigantic now. I really dread digging them up to divide them. They can’t stay there. They’re casting shade on two rose bushes like The Hulk. Gee, there is a color resemblance. Don’t know where I’ll put them given my small garden. They’re absolute devourers of real estate, and they better have a really impressive bloom next year or you know what will happen, don’t you? They’re decent structural plants but too reminiscent of yucca plants which I think are yucky. I do love their shade of green though. They make the ‘Periwinkle’ look sort of medium-sized even though it’s a good five feet across in this view. Gosh, what am I gonna to do with those things???

Ah-ha! Directly across the path from them is a vacant bed at the base of one leg of the rebar arbor, formerly the residence of 'Mme Scipion Cochet', the Hybrid Perpetual, who moved to Archer. It's five feet in diameter. I have a few other spots in mind, but probably not enough for all the little 'Giants' I'm going to have. Party favors, anyone?

Friday, July 29, 2011

'Maman Cochet, Climbing' - The First Two Years

As they say, ya hadda be there. For the exhilaration, joy and sheer pride of witnessing nature firsthand for the first time. For the panic at watching a monster rose eat the house (well, almost.) For the fear that curdles the stomach knowing you're in over your head, hoping no one sees the deer-in-the-headlights look on your face.

You weren't there, but I know you're wishing you had been. All it takes is a little fairy dust. POOF!! (Sorry about your frizzy hair. It's humid here.)