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Fifteen years ago, I fell hard for William Baffin. He was a tall Canadian, handsome and tough if a bit thorny.
Best of all, he didn't need any protection in a Minnesota winter.
William Baffin was a climbing rose. I planted him - yes, this rose is a guy - on the south side of my house and gave him a sturdy, towering cedar trellis for support. Each June and sometimes in September, William bloomed. It was a gaudy show, a mass of hot pink flowers that stopped strollers in their tracks. William needed almost no care except a drink on a hot day.
Each March I would wrestle with him, hacking back old canes. He often drew blood as I struggled to bend and tie newer canes horizontal to the ground. William always wants to reach for the sky, but he flowers best when he is forced to grow sideways.
A couple of years ago, Japanese beetles made it to my yard and destroyed the leaves on William's bottom four feet. He was looking raggedy and sad, and I began to care less about him. Roses are magnets for these horrible insects, and there's not a lot you can do to fight them.
Then came the big wind of last fall. I heard scratching and pulling on the south side of the house, and I knew William was in trouble.
When I went out the next morning, I saw the trellis leaning crazily away from the house. Ever since, William looks like he's going to tip over.
I didn't bother to prune him this spring, and he's reaching straight up again and into the branches of my apple tree. His bloom this month was so-so. I've been mulling over how to replace that old trellis with something that has the same strength and durability. But as I mowed the lawn last week and looked at William, a new thought entered my mind: Maybe it's time for William and I to go our separate ways.
He was planted in full sun, but now the apple tree shades that spot. Japanese beetles will continue to plague him. You can barely see him from the street now. And I'm getting tired of pushing through his unruly canes to reach the hose.
A clematis would look nice there. They like their feet in the shade and their heads in the sun. And a trellis to support a clematis can be a lot smaller than the one William needs.
I tend to be sentimental about plants I've had for a long time. But the older I get, the less mushy I feel about plants. If a plant can't make it in my garden or doesn't perform as advertised, out it goes. Time to try something new.
Is it time for William to go?