Rosa 'Royal Highness'

She failed me.  I gave her every chance over the course of 15 years.  She was one of my first rose purchases.  It was nearing the end of bareroot season.  I didn't know any better, didn't know that a fresh plant was a far  better choice than the kind that come with the roots packed  in sawdust in plastic bags, sitting  in the heat for weeks before  I came along and bought her.   She was never a good rose--the Rust was heavy and the flowers were few and far between, but I tried, Lord how I tried.  For six years. 



After six years, I decided to keep trying.  I got some good fresh growth, took a good cutting, and rooted  myself a new plant, discarding the grafted one.   Perhaps she'd be  better on her own roots.  The cutting grew.  It looked better than the discarded grafted plant.  A lot better.  I had hope.  I gave it nine more years of patient care--a ridiculous amount, an absurd--and finally today Mr. Shovel got his way. 

I would get a few flowers a year one or two of them absolute perfection, and  a lot of rust.  She failed  me.  I gave her every chance,  good soil, good fertilizer, good water,  protection from gophers and moles.  She failed me.  I did not fail her.  Some  battles are not worth fighting.  I should have known better.  We should  have known better.