Two new historic figures have come home to live with me: Queen Elizabeth and Ingrid Bergman. Pink and red roses, respectively.
Last year my elderly neighbor, whose name is Liz, brought me a body bag Queen Elizabeth rose from a clearance bin at Orscheln’s, “because my name is Elizabeth, too.” Bless her heart. I’ve been tempted by those roses, too. But I know that by the time those body bag roses have sat for a long time NOT on clearance, and then sat even longer on clearance, their roots are probably dry as dust. Liz had humbly given me the receipt in the event it did not grow properly because they do guarantee their plants but I hadn’t saved it, because I did not want a replacement clearance-bin body bag rose, and I didn’t want the bother of hanging on to the receipt and going to collect a two dollar refund, either. So I set the rose to soak in the sink, but before I could get it in the ground it was obviously dead.
But I was not sure my elderly neighbor would understand these events. She presumed the rose would grow and did not understand it was doomed from the start, and how could I tell her? So when it died, Scott had said, “you HAVE to get another one.” So I picked up cheapie Queen Elizabeth today, in a pot and then a bag–hopefully it’s a step up and perhaps if I get it in the ground quickly enough, good things will happen. When next I bring my neighbor over for a tour of the garden, I want to be able to point out Queen Elizabeth to her.
And Ingrid Bergman…ahhhhh…I have been hoping to get this beautiful red rose for quite some time. I found her at Rolling Hills (a nursery just outside town.) Now the question is, where to plant these?