Roses are thorny (or why my hands hurt)

rose
Our house came with a humongous rose bush. That thing is probably 8 feet tall, not counting the unruly weird branches that shoot out mid-summer to about 12 feet or so. It mostly just hangs out in the corner, looking thorny and mean, except for a couple of weeks in early May, when it explodes into blossoms and looks absolutely amazing.

in bloom

Mean rose bush hanging out in the corner, end of last year’s blooming season.

I’m not a fan of roses; I find them fussy and un-original. I would never choose to plant them, but since this was already here, and it does look pretty (although for a very short period of time), I try to do a little upkeep (however half-ass it may be).

I know next to nothing about roses, and it seems to be a contentious subject on the interwebs as well, because no one can agree 100% as to when to prune the damn things. The only consensus is that a) you must prune roses and b) they are very hard to kill.

Well, say no more.

As with other unpleasant things one must do (you know, being an adult and such), I put on my big girl pants and got to it.

I tried to follow instructions as to what branches to trim, but that’s really hard to do when the thorny mess keeps getting stuck in your hair (this leads to angry/revenge pruning). In the end, I lopped off a decent amount (yet probably not enough to give it any type of stable shape).

I hope I didn’t kill it, but if I did, it was self-defense.

 

 

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