Magazine article Sunset

From the Editor

Magazine article Sunset

From the Editor

Article excerpt

One of my favorite old roses is an orphan I adopted one day along an expressway in San Jose. Passing an abandoned ranch (all that was left was a weathered barn and acres of parched grass), I glimpsed the glossyleafed beauty covered with pale pink blossoms. It was draped gracefully over a broken-down split-rail fence. The sight of it, blooming lustily in defiance of its desolate surroundings, startled me. I pulled over and took a whiff of those delicate blossoms; they smelled like ripe apples. Then, because I was certain that this beautiful plant's days were numbered (a sign announced that a shopping center would soon rise on this very spot), I took several cuttings home and rooted them in a pot filled with moist potting mix and tented with a plastic bag. The rooted cuttings grew vigorously the first year, and by the third year-after I'd planted them in the ground-they bloomed. About that time, the parent plant and its ranch disappeared, and an asphalt parking lot took their place. …

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