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| A close-up of the ‘William Morris’ rose in bloom, soft apricot petals unfurling against dark green foliage, September 2023. |
A few years back, I faced a dilemma in my front garden. An old rose — one I valued highly — had become entangled with some invasive grass. It wasn't just a surface nuisance; the grass had worked its way deep into the root ball.
Digging it up was brutal work. I thought I’d cleared it. Believing I was thorough, I replanted the rose a few feet away, wary of Rose Replant Disease, that unseen enemy lying in wait under tired soil.
But I had underestimated the grass. It returned, fiercer than before, and choked out not only the rose but also a delicate underplanting of lamium I had carefully chosen to complement it. The border, once a quiet harmony of leaf and bloom, had turned chaotic.
A Battle for the Rose
A mighty battle ensued between me and the rose today.
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| The empty space in the garden after digging up the rose, surrounded by Acuba and centaurea. |
My first plan of attack was to pour about 50 litres of water over and around the rose — softening up the target before getting my hands dirty.
Next, I attacked with a shovel, digging around the root ball, and pouring more water into the hole as I pried the ground under the rose up. I circled the plant, repeating the manoeuvre, then deployed my trusted iron bar. Wedging it beneath the plant, I stood on the other end to lever the rose upwards.
With the ground thoroughly soaked, I got down to the finer work — removing the grass sod by hand and stripping away as much soil as possible.
Then came the loppers: long bypass loppers to sever the deeper roots. It became an iterative process — wedge, find a root, snip — until at last the rose came free. I lifted it high like a trophy. Victory.
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| Temporary trug of rainwater, for soaking before replanting. |
I transferred the rose to a 40-litre trug filled with rainwater and washed the root ball thoroughly, hoping this time I had finally defeated the grass roots.
Earlier, I had prepared the rose’s new home — another trug, this time filled with a mix of compost, potting grit, chicken manure, and garden soil. I plopped the rose in, topped up the medium, watered it well, and mulched the surface with grit for good measure.
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| The rose, newly potted in a trug with potting medium and grit mulch, ready for its third chance. |
A Pause for the Empty Space
The space left by the rose won't go to waste. I’ll start by removing all the lingering weeds. Then I'll enrich the soil with compost before laying down a porous weed barrier. A thick layer of woodchips will follow — giving the space a year to rest and recover before I decide what should come next.
Patience is part of gardening too.
Arranging My Container Garden
A 3:53-minute tour through my container garden, early summer arrangements.
At this time every year, I rearrange my container garden.
I time it with the start of summer — but more specifically, it happens just after I cut all my alliums to the ground. Once trimmed, I repurpose the allium stalks by sticking them into containers. It's a simple move, but it transforms the whole space.
Where before there was just foliage, now there’s sudden height and structure. The garden shifts from calm and green to bold and dramatic. Most of the plants are still in their growing phase — leaves everywhere but little in the way of bloom. The addition of the alliums gives the garden a sense of grandeur and interest right when it needs it most.
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