How to Transplant a Rose

Above, Rose de Recht, planted "bare root" this spring, this one has been blooming continuously. The medium sized flowers have a wonderful fragrance. Though there is some virus in some of the leaves, she is still a beauty, and my favorite of the new "old" roses I planted this year.

How to transplant a rose bush:

It's best to do this in the fall or spring, but can be done other times, if you have no other choice. (If it's really hot, I might give it some relief from afternoon shade with a proped up piece of plywood or an old towel. Make sure it won't blow over onto the rose bush in a high wind. If it's really cold, what in the heck are you doing gardening now? You can put a heavy load of mulch around it which will generate some heat and help it survive the chill.)

1. When you dig the rose (check laws in your area if it's not from a place where you have permission) be sure to get as much of the root system as possible. You may prefer to divide the rose, taking only one side of the plant and roots. Also get a good amount of dirt from around the bush. You'll need it later. Being planted in familiar soil (with local bacteria, etc.) will help it to survive the transplant.
2. Trim away any large branches to about one foot above the soil line. This will allow the rose to put most of its energy into developing new roots instead of having to support large branches and leaves. Leave some leaves, if possible, and any new growth at the base.
3. Dig a large hole, easily big enough to accommodate the root system and some added soil. As you dig, you may want to put the dirt onto a garbage bag so it won't leave a mess around the plant. Bill and I, being reckless, never do that.
4. Once you've removed the soil from the hole, dump a couple of large scoops each of peat moss or root starter mix, manure (from the garden store or from the pasture, if you're lucky enough to have a farm) and rich top soil maybe with some leaf mold into the new hole along with the dirt you salvaged when you dug up the rose. If you have heavy clay soil, add a scoop or two of sand for drainage.
5. With a shovel, mix it all up well. Then remove enough so that the rose can be planted back up to the soil line it had when you dug it up. Pack the remaining soil into a mound within the hole so the roots will fit over the mound.
6. Set the roots on the mound. You are going to want the planted area to form a sort of "well", slightly lower than the surrounding earth, so that water will sit long enough to soak into the roots below. So make sure that the roots will be deep enough to where the old soil line at the base of the rose is slightly below the surrounding earth.
7. Place the soil mixture around your rose, distributing it evenly. Pack it down with your foot as you go so the soil will make contact with the roots of the rose. Don't forget to leave the well.
8. Top with a good layer of mulch, to hold in moisture and protect the roots from too much heat or cold.
9. Water your acquisition well. I water once so the water comes up to the edge of the well, and soaks in. Then I water at least two more times the same way. That way, I am sure that the water will go all the way down into the soil in the entire hole. For the first few weeks, I don't let it dry out too much. Water when the soil is dry on top, but still slightly moist an inch deep. Water in the morning to prevent black spot or other such ailments, but if you must water later in the day, try to avoid getting water on the leaves.
10. If you are really worried about root development, use a rooting hormone (such as Root Tone)  in your first or second watering. Follow the directions on the package for transplanting.

And as every fancy-pants Rose Rustler says when she's all done plantin', "Voila!...pardner.  I'm gonna just mozie along to the sank and get this here dirt out from under my fangernails." (Do be sure to get your hands and fingernails cleaned thoroughly using soap and a nail brush.)

So long for now.

Rustlin' Abandoned Roses

There it was, a rusty old crane at the end of an old dirt road dotted with a couple of worn tires, various common weeds, some interesting rocks, one frog and a wide assortment of buzzing, biting insects. The perfect subject for daughter Joie's boyfriend, Donavan's photography assignment. Grandson Nate immediately dove for the frog; Joie immediately dove for cover from mosquitoes in the car. Bill went exploring along the river bank, and Donavan started snapping photos.

At first, being an artist, I examined the composition possibilities for the crane. Then I spotted something from the corner of my eye. Delicate fresh red foliage in a ditch filled with rubbish and weeds. I carefully crept near enough to investigate. It was the foliage of a rose. Obviously an old rose. An abandoned and unloved rose who had once graced the garden of some now demolished old home. She must have been bulldozed to the side when the road was made, and now she was begging me to save her from certain extinction.

Seeing that this faded beauty had only brand new growth sprouting from a few large and long dead canes, I used my thumbnail as a knife to cut off a pair of those new red shoots. But there was a big problem. The fragile red canes were already wilting after just a couple of minutes. Because Bill likes a tidy vehicle, there was no left over bottle of water with which to refresh the canes. Luckily, we were all desperate for water ourselves, so we bought some at a gas station up the road. After a bit of pleeding with the storekeeper, I was allowed to take a styrofoam cup to put my new acquisition in, with some of my own bottled water.

I can't understand how none of my companions found my new friend as interesting as I did. As we headed to River Bend Park, I examined her intently. Her canes are reddish green, with mossy growth at the stem around each new leaf. The new leaves themselves, are thin and folded and curly at the tips. They open to be a deep red-brown. I worried that new shoots wouldn't root this time of year, and finding scissors and a hatchet in the back of Bill's car (the scissors were mine, and the need to have a hatchet handy at all times is a remnant from Bill's Boy Scout days) I told him that I'd like him to dig up a small section of the rose when we went back for the "later in the day" photos that Donavan needed.

Heading home, we returned to the abandoned lot. As Donavan went right for the crane, I grabbed my scissors and Bill, his trusty hatchet. He didn't question. He didn't complain. (He is the best husband a girl like me could ever have!) He just climbed into that ditch and started hacking at the roots. All of the roots. I refused to succomb to a sense of guilt for leaving nothing behind, and a fear of responsibility (now I must succeed in making her live!). Bill dug her up, dead canes and all. Then he got a full grocery bag of the soil she'd been growing in, and stuffed her right on top of it. Dousing her bare roots with a bit of H2O, we headed home.

After pouring over all of my rose books, I can't find any foliage like hers. And examining the growth on the root we dug, I suspect that she may be two roses. One that was planted there on purpose and the other, perhaps a sport of it or a return to some older rose.

It's funny how your brain can train your eyes to spot a jewel amongst a passle of weeds. My little brain has trained my eyes to spot plants; all kinds of plants. I identify Joe Pye Weed, Goat's Beard and May Apple in the woods and along the shore of creeks and rivers. I find old herbs like wild mustard, sorrel, cinquefoil and Angelica in meadows. Best of all, I can spot an old abandoned rose just about anywhere.

I have read about "rose rustlers" who rescue old roses from certain extinction. I suppose I am a bit of a rose rustler myself. (I blogged about one earlier this year, on my art blog Little Pink Spaceship Gazette at deberklein.com.) This old girl in the picture is right happy about it, too. She deserves to live; even a place in my garden. And later, if she turns out to be a newly discovered "old rose", a moss or perhaps a long lost damask, I'll see to it that she gets spread around to the right people. If it turns out that she is just a common wild Carolina rose, Shakespear's words come to mind. "A rose by any other name does smell as sweet." I will still enjoy her. The foliage already has made her worth the rescue.

See youn's later, as they say 'round these here parts!

deber

By the way, if any of you could help me identify this foliage before a flower comes about, please feel free to comment! I'll be ever-so-grateful.

(And added later) She is now planted in the yard, right outside the garden fence, where I can water her from the front porch. I know this isn't the best time to transplant, but I think she's going to make it.