Don’t Be a Deadhead

QUESTION: To deadhead or not to deadhead - that is the question.

WHAT I LEARNED: Nothing is sacred.

I need to make one thing clear to all. My Saturday and Sunday mornings are sacred. Don’t knock on my door. Don’t call me on the phone. Let me alone – just for a few hours. I am sleeping in.

Oddly, nobody wants to follow this simple rule of mine.

My early-riser husband seems to feel compelled to check in after morning coffee with his buddies to see what we are all doing. Telemarketers are drawn to give me a call on weekend mornings too. Ironically, I recently got a call from the phone company reminding me to pay my phone bill. It was before 8:30 in the morning. If only I would forget – permanently – my mornings would be quieter.

And while you are at it, do not disturb my roses in the morning either. Yeah, that means you, dear lady - the one who turned up at our front door last Saturday morning to say hello. My son was getting ready for work when she came a calling. A teenage boy getting ready for work tends to be noisy – very noisy – so my hopes of snuggling under the blankets for a little extra shut eye was really just a silly dream at that point anyhow.

He came upstairs to report her presence. He seemed rather distressed that the neighbor lady was outside. I was just a little surprised. I don’t get many morning visitors. He said she wanted to talk to me. He was concerned that I hurry. It seems the friendly visitor was “picking my roses” while awaiting my arrival. I headed downstairs as fast as I could. I was still half asleep. There was the neighbor lady – just sitting on my front porch – innocent as can be. I didn't see a bouquet of roses in her hand so I sat down next to her and in my sleepy state forgot about the roses in the glare of the morning sunshine. I focused on trying to figure out who this woman was instead. I had no idea. After a few minutes the mystery was solved. It seems that we had met at a holiday rotating dinner and she just wanted to stop by and say hi as she was passing by. That was almost six months ago. I guess I am either extremely memorable or she leads an exceptionally boring life.

We spent a few minutes in innocuous chatting and then I glanced over to a little table by the front door. It was so pretty. How strange. It was normally quite an ordinary table. Yet it was spectacularly pretty in that moment that I glance over at it.

That’s because it was covered with rose blossoms.

Now I was awake – wide awake. The little side table was totally covered with roses. My roses. Picked off at the head. Unless the woman carried rose shears with her, she must had ripped them off with her bare hands and then tidily placed them on the table.

Oh, she said, noticing that I had jumped up and was surveying the roses – I deadheaded your roses for you. Luckily my back was to her so she couldn’t see the horrified look on my face. My grandmother – she continued – was big on deadheading roses.

The roses on the table were perfect blooms not wilted shadows of their former selves.

I have heard about deadheading wilted or dead flowers from plants but not perfectly good blooms and certainly not other people's roses - in this case mine. You want to deadhead roses? Grow them in your own yard and then deadhead away. It would never occur to me to go into a stranger’s yard and start tampering with their plants. I was in shock. I mean – my roses are all picked and not even so you could put them in a vase. Their little beautiful rosy heads were just torn off and laid out for viewing. Well, so much for bouquets in hand. I swear, I could not have been more surprised if she had suddenly cut off a chunk of my hair as we were sitting beside each other on the porch.

My roses. She did pick them. A whole bunch of them.

Really, I guess I’m lucky her grandmother wasn’t big on breaking into houses, or dinging up cars, or street graffiti, or pulling the plants up right by their roots.

Without saying a word, I went into the house and found some shallow bowls. I filled them with water and floated the roses in them. I think her grandmother meant the roses in her own garden – not other people’s yards. I decided not to share this thought with my rose-picking neighbor. My primary goal was now to get her off my porch and away from my garden rather than to begin a dialogue regarding rose bush maintenance.

The conversation did seem to dry up soon after my discovery of the beheaded flowers lying in state on the little table by my front door. I just did not know what to say besides – what were you thinking?

She left soon after. I don’t think she’ll be stopping by for another visit again soon. At least I hope not.

I went back inside with my bowls of roses and a shocked look still plastered on my face. No one in my family could believe it when they saw the flowers on the kitchen counter. It made for lots of good weekend chatter. The unscheduled deadheading operation also made us all realize how much pleasure we get from looking at those rosebushes everyday as we come in and out of the house. Even my husband – never a rose man – had to admit it.

In the end, our front garden was a bit sparser – it was true - but perhaps all parties were just a wee bit wiser for it.

Comments

[Margaret]

What a very eccentric thing for anyone to do. I would be in utter shock.

[boxx]

My neighbors steal my roses all the time. It really pisses me off. The rose bush is just 3 feet in front of my livingroom window. For some unexplained reason the neighbors think the rose bush is common property or something. The SAME neighbors who caught my patio furniture on fire by a thrown lit cigarette. CRAZY! I guess they need the roses more than I do?

[l'empress]

I'm so glad you floated the poor things in bowls -- while she was still there to see it. And my comment would have been, "That's strange, my grandmother always told me not to touch the roses while they were still blooming." What colossal nerve!

[patti]

OMG~i would of been mad as heck too-i have a orange tree in my front yard and a couple of years ago someone took all my oranges off the tree-i was livid!! your roses were beautiful and i hate it when i get woken up for stupid things too on weekends!!

[Yvonne]

HOLY COW! She's lucky you didn't deadhead her!

[michelle]

I would have killed her.

[radiogurl]

That's really inexcusable. It is arrogance incarnate, disrespectful in the extreme and bordering on theft, since she essentially robbed you of the sight of roses when you view your yard. I'm sorry that anyone would think themselves entitled to that kind of affrontery.

[mz. em]

It just amazes me at the liberties some people take.

[golfwidow]

I do seem to remember having read that fully bloomed roses should be removed because they sap the growth from the rest of the plant and prevent sunlight from reaching the roots, but that doesn't excuse her behavior. I don't know if she needs manners lessons or treatment for OCD.

[Anna]

Just found you via your banner. What beautiful roses!! And what an old bag - shocking! I also live in less than perfect order with a collection of offspring and a prophet of doom style partner, so I'm going to add you to my favourites. Wishing you well xx

[April]

Oh, man !

Deadheading is not for the faint of heart( my mother started screaming once when we trimmed the bushes once)...also the intact roses ...should be harvested with the stem in my book.
What beauties !

Do they have a scent ?
Not all do.
Ours do.
Each one is different yet heavenly with suble differences.

What a day!