We have an incredible, lush garden that is bursting at the seams. Ferns are uncurling, reaching out feathery fingers. The dogwood bloomed, then dropped its white petals across the brick and into the pond. Every day, it seems, something new pops from the ground or off a branch, replacing another bloom that's just passed.
We have a few rose bushes, trees, really. The one on the eastern fence tipped forward earlier this year, so I tethered it to the fence with kitchen twine and crossed my fingers. After a wild night of rain, the rose on the west side of the garden tipped over. Bama is here, for scale (she's 37 inches tall).
I called my mother and stepfather for advice, thinking I should hack away at the poor thing until it could lift its head. The trouble is that it's full of buds and sprigs, and trimming could wreak havoc. But, my gardeners agreed. Snip and cut away. So I did, with kitchen shears and a saw I found in our landlord's shed (the trimmers were rusted shut). I had trimmed back the rose earlier this year, but not enough, apparently. The pile of branches stands about two feet high. Without their weight, the rose stood up. I still have some more cutting to do, and I need to retether her to the fence, but she's upright again!