Why I Hate Roses

Yes, roses can be seductive. They have gorgeous flowers, they often smell quite nice, they can have strong historical and private associations for many people, and their names are just great (Mr. Lincoln, Julia Child, Maria Callas, Queen Elizabeth, Johann Strauss, . . . ).

But my perspective on roses allows me to see past their charms. Kay has a smallish collection of rose bushes. (For me, far too many; for most rosarians, far too few.) I help dig the holes for planting them, pull the weeds under them, water them, stake them, and pull Japanese beetles off them. And I try to comfort Kay while she agonizes over their illnesses, which is practically all the time.

I see roses' ugly side. Here, in sum, is the brief against them:

1. They need a lot of preparation. Roses are bushes. They need big holes. A normal perennial-sized hole won't cut it. In our yard, where the soil is basically dry mortar holding together a vast jumble of grape-sized to fist-sized rocks, digging a rose hole means using a heavy crowbar-like tool more often than a shovel.

2. They don't shade out weeds. Roses are fussy. They don't like to be crowded, and they don't like to share their beds with non-roses. Their beds consequently have a lot of sunny, open space that is perfect for weeds. Mulching helps somewhat, but you still need to get down on your knees and reach under and around their thorny branches to keep the weeds down.

3. They're always in trouble. Roses seem to be sick all the time. The leaves are turning yellow and dropping; the buds are bending over and dying; they're loaded with aphids and Japanese beetles. Sometimes they just seem to have general malaise, like a widow who's lost her husband and her will to live. Roses never become "established." They're always on the brink of disaster. Worst of all, some of their problems seem to be curable only by soaking the ground around them with chemicals so bad that they can't be sold anymore.

Are roses so wonderful that we should put ourselves through this, when we could have a bright, exuberant perennial bed for a small fraction of the toil and worry?