And this is life-saving

Radical pruning

Et oui.

You have to do it to save them. I knew when I bought them the summer before last (or was it the last? Yes, last summer.) that I would be taking them out soon enough. I knew I really should wait to put them in, but what I didn't know was when an idea of doing the work on the house would be able to become actually doing work on the house.

Like, you plant them, so of course the work will get going.

You wait, and the work always seems to be out there somewhere in the future.

I planted. I even replanted, better, in November (really tempting fate); we found a contractor.

Sam and Georges, one of the workers, dug them up. Sam put as much dirt from the hole in the pots around them as he could, and then the rose bushes sat, and waited for me. I couldn't bring myself to prune them, knowing very well I had to.

Day after day, they turned browner and crispier, all save one that continued to have some green leaves, and yesterday, when I passed it going into the garage, I saw a lovely last bloom opening, and a cluster of tight green buds.

It will finish on the table.

Yesterday, I finally went to Florosny for some root stimulator and more planting soil and rose fertilizer. Victor said I have to do it. I knew it. I came home and did it.

Audouin says that in their present state, the plants look better than they did before I pruned them to the nub. He's right. There's nothing worse than a bare, long-legged, shriveling rose bush, except four of them.

....

Justin heads home, or
a meeting of terrorists at Roissy give the sign

(fist bump)

When did six weeks ever go faster? Ask Victor and Justin, and they won't be able to come up with another answer than these last six.

They flew.

And Justin is right now, on his way back home to Lansdale.

Au revoir, et à bientôt.

....