Mens dream came not suddenly. It ripened for years, like a bud on a thin stem. Once, in childhood, I saw a rose of unparalleled beauty at my neighbor's through a fence. Purple, with velvet petals, it smelled so that the head spun. I asked for a cutting. The neighbor smiled: "You'll grow — you're a hero." That 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. First bud, or how I believed in myself The sixth cutting survived. It was a miracle: I soaked it in honey, wrapped it in film, placed it on the southern window. And one day tiny leaves sprouted. And two months later — a bud! It was crooked, pale pink, without a scent. But I cried like a child. I understood: I can. It was with that rose, which I called "Hope," that my collection began. Now I have more than four hundred varieties. But I still remember that first one. It died of black spot in a severe winter, but it remained in the heart. Roses as a business: from hobby to profession For a long time I worked as an engineer at a factory. Roses were my sanctuary. In the evenings and on weekends I buried myself in the soil, grafted, 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: I bought sick seedlings, lost the harvest 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. Secrets of cultivation: what I learned in 30 years 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: sun for no less than six ho ... Read more