Time to stop and smell the roses
Julia Atkinson-dunn wanted to learn more about bringing roses to her urban garden, so she visited family-owned Gilroy Nurseries just north of Christchurch.
In the language of flowers, roses of different colours often have different meanings. White symbolises eternal love and innocence; red beauty and desire; pink is about confidence and gratitude, to touch on just a few. Overall, roses are associated with love, hope and passion, something I think we can all get behind.
It’s common for gardeners to collect roses that have been bred and named to commemorate people, events or simply to plant one as a personal symbol of remembrance or celebration.
And make no mistake, the world of roses is complex and wide-ranging. It’s littered with mindboggling terms such as floribunda, hybrid tea, carpet, miniature, standard, bush, patio, climber, and David Austin to really force some research out of you.
All in all, roses are enticing and mysterious to me as I stand near the beginning of my gardening adventure.
Determined to learn more, I greedily took up the invitation to visit family-owned Gilroy Nurseries on the fertile flats of Clarkville, just north of Christchurch.
On amagical still autumn afternoon, Claire Gilroy greeted me, bucket in hand, secateurs at her hip, and wearing some seriously superior-looking gardening gloves.
We set off down a lane, bordered on one side by tall planted shelter (to deal with the Canterbury northwesterlies) and on the other, awild, lush block of non-flowering roses that are grown to form root stock.
From there we viewed the low, rigid rows of young plants, their glossy tufts of grafted growth showing the promise of what will be arriving in garden centres this time next year.
Walking through a gate between soaring thick hedges, ‘‘rose heaven’’ was then revealed. It was such a beautiful spectacle in the low golden light that I was stopped in my tracks, speechless for a moment.
Tightly planted rows of lush roses marched away from me, punctuated with blooms covering the spectrum of the rainbow. It was practically a movie set in its idealistic format and, as we wandered, I was stunned at the enormous variety of shape, tone and fragrance that the Gilroys have selected to share.
As we walked through the rows, stopping to admire and snip samples of Claire’s favourites, I could only think about my grim, unkempt row of white icebergs at my front door, and how unadventurous they were when there was such a universe of choice available.
It was also fascinating to learn about the process of farming these specimens, which was framed in brutal example by Tom Gilroy walking down the rows armed with a hedge trimmer.
With the aim of supplying garden centres around the country with plants in time for Mother’s Day, preparation requires each bush to be deeply pruned back ready for transport and in condition to be popped into their new garden homes.
I wondered if the Gilroys felt sentimental knowing their plant babies were to become seasonally loved additions to gardens of all shapes and sizes. I certainly did.
As my eyes boggled at the vase potential of the rapidly-filling bucket that Claire carried, I quizzed her on some general rose advice she could offer others like me – people who are interested but who have little idea. She reassured me, saying not to be intimidated by growing roses, and that a little homework will provide huge rewards.
Research to select a position in the garden that suits the type of rose you have bought, taking into account soil preparation, access to water and a sunny spot that receives aminimum of five hours of sunshine a day.
We are spoilt for choice with rose varieties, each with different attributes, some positive, others negative. Claire recommended tapping into local knowledge, such as your area’s rose society Facebook page, to learn about specific varieties that thrive in your region, a terrific idea as gardening enthusiasts will fall over themselves to help and share with newcomers. That’s just the nature of the business.
I left Gilroy Nurseries as the light was dying, feeling inspired to explore the potential of bringing more roses into my own small, urban garden, and relishing the opportunity to see the work undertaken by a local flower growerwho allows us those options to play.
Next time you are in a garden centre, take a moment to notice the names on the plastic plant pots, knowing that they have been lovingly grown, and have travelled from small farms all over the country.
Local really is lovely.