A Pragmatist’s Guide to Hybrid Teas

Bob wasn’t wearing rose-colored glasses when he promised me a rose garden. Moreover, we were determined to grow hybrid teas, the most finicky of blooms, without chemical pesticides. No scentless knock-out roses for us, we wanted the sweetest of the sweet, Fragrant Cloud and others of her ilk. Yet, although our goal appeared Utopian, our approach was cautious and methodical. At this point we weren’t sure whether to take an optimistic or pessimistic view. We needed more facts.

Optimism – a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome

Pessimism – the tendency to see, anticipate, or emphasize only bad or undesirable outcomes, results, conditions, problems, etc.

It may have seemed Bob was peering through mud-smeared glasses as he perused the internets for everything that could go wrong with organically grown roses. He soon concluded that our chances were slender but not impossible. Meanwhile, I searched for fragrant varieties renowned for their hardiness in our area. We were being realists, setting ourselves up for success by arming ourselves with information. Refusing to consider possible pitfalls would have been foolish.

Realism – interest in or concern for the actual or real, as distinguished from the abstract, speculative, etc., the tendency to view or represent things as they really are

Pragmatism – character or conduct that emphasizes practicality

We settled on a pragmatic approach, starting small and counting on Bob’s years of organic gardening to help even the odds. He followed all the rules, digging the bed to suggested specifications, applying recommended soil amendments, and buying our plants from a reputable nursery. We chose Fragrant Cloud, Double Delight, Chrysler Imperial, and Stainless Steel – coral, pink and cream, deep red, and lavender-white, all praised for their scent. Bob planted them in a high-profile place where we can keep an eye on them and installed an automatic watering system.

Bob and I believe in following rules, a dirty word in idealistic circles. Yet, the natural world is riddled with rules; leaves drop after the first freeze, warm soil encourages green shoots, rain breeds weeds. Rules are a fact of life and all rules involve consequences. If you hope you can get away with putting diesel in your gas car, you will find yourself stranded. Eat too much and your jeans grow tighter. Buy a load of gravel if you don’t want to get stuck in the mud. Our respect for rules effectively makes us pragmatists.

The first sign of trouble flies in on iridescent wings but we know what to do. We pick off the Japanese beetles one by one and toss them into a jar of soapy water. Crisis averted. Roses flourish. The second year Chrysler Imperial inexplicably dies. We were prepared for this, and aren’t too disappointed. A year later, our project appears to be a success.

Every time I stand at the kitchen sink, I see our beautiful rose bushes, bright and happy against the yellow south-facing wall of our garage. On my way to visit friends, I snip off blooms before climbing into the car. I pick flowers to grace our home when I walk in from the garage. They fill the yard and house with unforgettable fragrance. My rose garden is a constant reminder that I married a genius who knows how to walk the line between optimism and pessimism. I married a realist, a pragmatist who only promises what he can deliver.

“An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup.” – H.L. Mencken, A Book of Burlesques