The War of the Roses

Many years ago I wrote an article about growing roses:

For years we have had a running battle with the creatures that attack our roses.

In the beginning all was peaceful as we sat back with a cool drink in hand, appreciating the lovely display of blossoms on our rose arbor, far from the busy traffic of Shelbourne Street. Then trouble began.  Various bugs insidiously invaded our new haven.

We purchased the necessary rose spray which we very carefully mixed - so many ounces to so many gallons, sprayed copiously and all was well.  Or so it seemed.

The following year an army of little green looper worms attacked and we were thoroughly disheartened. Finally we found the proper ammunition to deal with them and managed, we thought, to finish them off.

To our dismay, they sent in reinforcements in the form of paratroopers by the hundreds, floating down on silken threads from the many oak trees on our property.  We rallied, sprayed once more and felt very confident we had overcome the hordes.

About this time, the odd black spot began appearing on the leaves, but not knowing much about roses, we ignored this situation until it was too late.  An elderly neighbor told us he had some wonderful stuff that would restore our roses to their former beauty.

We diligently applied this potion, only to find later that 'black spot' was one of the things it did NOT resolve.

We finally concluded that the mild winters of Vancouver Island are most conducive to the propagation of the insect community.  So now we have a large array of bottles and tins, all marked in metric (yet another challenge).  I cleverly located, among all the paraphernalia I keep, a little glass bottle showing clearly marked metric measurements.  This helps somewhat to dilute the intensity of Ken's wrath as he prepares to enter battle.

With all the environmental studies that have been published and the information and warning on the use of insecticides, Ken has become overly cautious when he enters combat against the enemy.  Actually he is quite a comical sight.

First he dons an old pair of jeans (which unfortunately have a zipper that insists on doing its own thing), then he puts on a equally old shirt and jacket. Next comes a face mask and then a pair of ski goggles (discarded long ago by our son, for a more superior set), a cap to protect his scalp, and finally a pair of gloves.  He is ready to engage the enemy.

The first few minutes are usually quite successful, but then the nozzle on the spray becomes clogged.  Off come the goggles and gauntlets until that situation is remedied. Back to the battleground and another interruption as the goggles steam up under the concentration of fierce battle.  This is followed by time out to throw down the gloves and pull up the errant zipper on his jeans (they do say to be very careful...).

Once, when Ken was thus attired, some teenage boys walked by and kept looking back at him as if they couldn't believe what they saw.  I couldn't resist - I had to capture it on film.

All is quiet on the western front at the moment, but I am keeping a wary eye out for interlopers.  One cannot afford to relax vigilance in The War of the Roses.