The dream did not come suddenly. It matured over the years, like a bud on a slender stem. Once, as a child, I saw a rose of unparalleled beauty at my neighbor's through a fence. Purple, with velvet petals, it smelled so strongly that it made my head spin. I asked for a cutting. My neighbor smiled: "You'll be a hero if you grow it." The first cutting dried up. Then the second, the third. But the passion did not fade. Now, thirty years later, I cannot imagine life without roses. They have become my endeavor, my pain, my pride. And today I will tell you how a simple hobby turned into a destiny.
The sixth cutting survived. It was a miracle: I soaked it in honey, wrapped it in film, placed it by the southern window. And one day tiny leaves appeared. And two months later — a bud! It was crooked, pale pink, without a scent. But I cried like a child. I realized: I can. It was with that rose, which I named "Hope," that my collection began. Now I have over four hundred varieties. But I still remember the first one. It died of black spot in a harsh winter, but it remains in my heart.
For a long time, I worked as an engineer at a factory. Roses were my sanctuary. In the evenings and on weekends, I dug into the soil, propagated, pruned. My colleagues rolled their eyes: "Found something to do." But one day I calculated: selling seedlings and bouquets brings as much as my salary at the factory. I resigned. It was scary. My wife supported me. I rented a plot, built greenhouses. At first, I made mistakes: bought sick seedlings, lost crops to frost. But I learned from my mistakes. Now I conduct master classes, people come to me from all over the region. Roses feed my family and bring joy.
Roses do not like hustle. They need a routine, love, and cold calculation. The main rule: good drainage. The roots should not be wet. Second: sunlight for at least six hours a day. Third: pruning. Without it, the bush becomes wild. I use only organic fertilizers: manure, compost, ash. Chemistry kills the scent. Moreover, I talk to the roses. Yes, it sounds strange, but they feel the mood. On a bad day, the leaves turn yellow. On a good day, they bloom more lushly. And above all, patience. Some varieties bloom in the third year after planting. But it is worth it.
"Gloria Day" — a classic cream-yellow with a pink edge. The aroma is strong, sweet. Blooms until frost. "Pierre de Ronsar" — climbing rose with large goblet-shaped flowers. Ideal for arches. "Black Magic" — dark purple, almost black. For those who love mysticism. "Leonardo da Vinci" — delicately pink, with dense velvety petals. Similar to a peony. "Vesterland" — orange-rose pink, with an incredible fruity scent. Each variety requires a special approach. But all of them are beautiful.
I often remember the boy who watched a stranger's rose through a fence. Today I have my own nursery. In June, when the whole garden is blooming, I turn on soft music, sit in a wicker chair, and breathe in the aroma. It is happiness. I did not become a millionaire, but I am free. I do what I love. And people value my flowers. They come to us for weddings, birthdays, just for a bouquet of mood. I realized: growing roses is not just work. It is a way to communicate with the world in the language of beauty.
Do not be afraid to start with one bush. Plant a tea hybrid rose "Flammentanz" — it is unpretentious. Buy a good secateur, do not skimp. Learn how to do winter insulation. Straw, spandex, dry leaves. Do not overwater. And do not listen to "experts" who say that roses are difficult. Everything is difficult until you try. The main thing is the desire. And the memory of why you are doing this.
Black spot, powdery mildew, aphids. These are my enemies. I do not use pesticides — they kill bees and beneficial insects. Instead, I use garlic, tobacco, ash. If the infestation is severe, I remove the sick leaves and burn them. It is important not to overcrowd plantings — air should circulate. And water under the root, not on the leaves. Diseases often come with purchased seedlings, so I have been taking cuttings only from reliable people for many years.
At first, my wife was jealous of the flowers. She said: "You spend more time with them than with me." Then I involved her in the business. Now she herself assembles bouquets, manages social networks. The children grew up with roses. They know the difference between floribunda and ground cover. My granddaughter already asks for her own bush. Roses have brought us together. We have gone through drought and an aphid invasion together. We rejoice over every new bloom. This is our family value.
I dream of breeding my own variety. A dark blue rose with a vanilla scent. So far, it's not working. But I am experimenting with cross-pollination. My plans include expanding the nursery, launching an online store for seedlings. And definitely writing a book. About how a simple hobby became the whole life. So that others believe: dreams come true. Not immediately, with pain, with losses. But they do come true.
Rose growing is not a hobby and not a business. It is a dialogue. You give the earth labor, warmth, care, and it gives you a miracle. A miracle that smells and touches the soul. I am happy. I have found my own. Look for yours too.
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