The dream didn't come suddenly. It ripened over 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 strongly that it made my head spin. I asked for a cutting. My neighbor smiled, "You'll do well if you grow it." The first cutting dried out. Then the second, third. But the passion did not fade. Now, thirty years later, I can't imagine life without roses. They have become my cause, my pain, my pride. 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 on a southern window. And one day, tiny leaves sprouted. 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 that rose, which I named "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 haven. In the evenings and on weekends, I dug 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: 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: sunlight for at least six hours a day. Third: pruning. Without it, the bush becomes wild. I use only organic fertilizers: manure, compost, ash. Chemistry kills the scent. Moreover, I 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's worth it.
"Gloria Day" — a classic cream-yellow with a pink edge. The aroma is strong, sweet. Blooms until frost. "Pierre de Ronsar" — 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" — pale pink, with dense velvety petals. Similar to a peony. "Westerland" — orange-rose, 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 stranger's rose through a fence. Today, I have my own nursery. In June, when the garden is in bloom, I turn on soft music, sit in a wicker chair, and breathe in the aroma. It's happiness. I didn't 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's a way to speak to the world in the language of beauty.
Don't be afraid to start with one bush. Plant a tea hybrid rose "Flammentanz" — it's not demanding. Buy a good secateur, don't spare money. Learn how to do winter covering. Straw, spandbond, dry leaves. Don't overwater. And don't listen to "experts" who say that roses are complicated. Everything is complicated until you try. The main thing is the desire. And the memory of why you do it.
Black spot, powdery mildew, aphids. These are my enemies. I don't 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's important not to overcrowd plantings — air should circulate. And water under the root, not on the leaves. Diseases often come with purchased seedlings, so I have been taking cuttings only from verified people for many years.
My wife first was jealous of the flowers. She said: "You spend more time with them than with me." Then I involved her in the business. Now she herself composes bouquets, manages social networks. The children grew up on roses. They know the difference between floribunda and ground cover. My granddaughter already asks for her own bush. Roses have brought us together. We have survived drought and aphid invasion together. We rejoice in every new flower. This is our family value.
I dream of breeding my own variety. A dark blue rose with a vanilla scent. So far, it's not working. But I am experimenting with cross-pollination. Plans include expanding the nursery, launching an online store for seedlings. And definitely writing a book. About how a simple hobby became the whole life's work. So that 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's 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 have found my own. Look for yours too.
New publications: |
Popular with readers: |
News from other countries: |
![]() |
Editorial Contacts |
About · News · For Advertisers |
Nigerian Digital Library ® All rights reserved.
2023-2026, ELIB.NG is a part of Libmonster, international library network (open map) Preserving the Nigerian heritage |
US-Great Britain
Sweden
Serbia
Russia
Belarus
Ukraine
Kazakhstan
Moldova
Tajikistan
Estonia
Russia-2
Belarus-2