The dream did not come suddenly. It ripened over years, like a bud on a slender stem. Once, in childhood, I saw a rose of unparalleled beauty through my neighbor's fence. Purple, with velvet petals, it smelled so strongly that it made my head spin. I asked for a cutting. The neighbor smiled: "If you grow it, you're a hero." 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 cause, my pain, my pride. And today I will tell you how a simple hobby turned into 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 emerged. 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 this rose, which I called "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 delved 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 quit. 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 bustle. They need a routine, love, and cold calculation. The main rule: good drainage. The roots should not be wet. Second: at least six hours of sunlight a day. Third: pruning. Without it, the bush becomes wild. I use only organic fertilizers: manure, compost, ash. Chemistry kills the scent. I even 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 most importantly, patience. Some varieties bloom on the third year after planting. But it is worth it.
"Gloria Day" — a classic cream-yellow with a pink edge. The scent is strong, sweet. It blooms until the frost. "Pierre de Ronsard" — a climbing rose with large cup-shaped flowers. Ideal for arches. "Black Magic" — dark purple, almost black. For those who love mysticism. "Leonardo da Vinci" — softly pink, with dense mossy petals. Similar to a peony. "Westerland" — orange-rose pink, with an incredible fruity scent. Each variety requires a special approach. But they are all beautiful.
I often remember that boy who looked at a foreign rose through a fence. Today I have my own nursery. In June, when the entire 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 appreciate 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 spare money. Learn how to do winter covering. Straw, spandex, dry leaves. Do not water it. 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 useful insects. Instead: garlic infusion, tobacco, ash. If the infestation is severe, I remove the sick leaves and burn them. It is important not to overcrowd plantings — air must circulate. And water under the root, not on the leaves. Diseases often come with purchased seedlings, so I have been taking cuttings only from trusted people for many years.
My wife initially resented 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 groundcover. My granddaughter already wants her own bush. Roses have brought us together. We have survived drought and aphid invasion together. We celebrate every new bloom together. This is our family value.
I dream of breeding my own variety. A dark blue rose with a vanilla scent. It's not working yet. But I am experimenting with cross-pollination. Plans are to expand the nursery, launch an online store for seedlings. And definitely write a book. About how a simple hobby became the whole life. To make others believe: dreams come true. Not immediately, with pain, with losses. But they do.
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 found my own. Look for yours too.
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