Every day of spring 2011 I went into the garden soon after the sun peeked over the south mountains. I would water all the new roses, if they needed it. And I would pull up weeds here and there. The previous year had proven to be a measured success, and I had recently added a few dozen roses. By mid May they had all leafed out. They were growing long, tender new canes. And they were very active in making rose buds. The buds swelled and several opened. I prepared myself for a generous spring display.
The third day in June there was a full moon. I came out the next morning to find that every single rose bud in the garden had been nibbled away. And that much of the new foliage on my newest roses was gone, too. I was crushed. Not just for the loss of a spring’s worth of rose blossoms, but for the setback the youngest roses had suffered. Continue reading