Today I finished the 'topiary' on our large wild rose. This is not a precise term, as wild roses usually flourish in hedgerows and weave themselves in among the vegetation. Ours was sitting solitary on an untenanted (at the time) communal orchard and we moved it. Now that plot is thriving and is tended by some pleasant Romanians from a smallholding family, but I digress...
The rose, which we removed some years ago, was intended as rootstock. My husband was going to graft in a cultivated rose bud (he learned this in his first job working for a rose-grower south of the River). But time, other jobs and other priorities arose. (If you will excuse the pun). The rose thrived, grew and sent out many strong vertical shoots which we wove into a somewhat ramshackle trellis. This week we trimmed these back and wove in fresh shoots as best we could.
Our rose is now something between a rambler, a windbreak and a wildlife resource. Every autumn it gives us a show of bright rosehips. Perhaps one day I will make rosehip jelly from these. Thus far I have left them for the birds.
Today I looked 'through' the arch of our rose to the trees beyond it; the cherry, the Bramley apple and the eating apple at the end of the plot and remarked to M that I have my very own arbour. Famous garden writers and designers are paid good money for features like this.
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