My roses were rusty.
Past-me is surprised that Present-me even just typed that sentence. But it’s true:
My roses were rusty. And it sucked.
Spring has sprung here, and after two weekends away from the yard I set out on Saturday to visit all my flower babies. And lo and behold, I discovered rust on all twelve of my rose bushes (some to a greater extent than others).
I now realize that rust probably plagues my roses continuously, on a seasonal basis. They are old roses — really old. Too old to be the modern fancypants rustproof kind (yes, there is such a thing as a “rustproof rose bush”). When we moved in last June, I think the decrepit state of the roses wasn’t so much due to aphids as it was to rust, ignored since an early spring onset.
DAMN YOU, LAZY, PLANT-HATING, PREVIOUS OWNERS!
Well, I dealt with the rust.
I pruned every last bit of rusty foliage off the bushes and dug out every rusty leaf from the mulch beds (every. rusty. leaf.). I treated all the canes, the surrounding mulch, and new buds with fungicide on all surfaces. And I will repeat every couple of weeks as instructed for time eternal goddammit because those roses are in front of my house and they are GOING TO BE A SUCCESS STORY.
In other news, here’s a beautiful success story from the other side of my house (not the front side, unfortunately):
Enough to make a bouquet for a very special someone this coming weekend… Stay tuned!