I should note -- our Golden Celebrations are allowed to arch out naturally, and so, they produce blooming laterals along the canes without all that work. Letting a climber naturalize will do the same thing.

A well-grown rose would be healthy, and make an attractive plant, of the correct size for that cultivar.

I suppose a rose could be well-grown, and not bloom much at all. (Cl. Peace, for instance grew lustily here, while producing perhaps 2-3 blooms in as many years. After that, it was removed.)

Jeri

I've been thinking about taking Golden Celebration off the trellis and letting it have it's way but I'd have to move some others out from under it first. Maybe this spring, we'll see. It does need a good hair cut in any case.

You really won't know whose a heavy feeder and who isn't until you've grown them a while. I don't know that you would have to feed climbers or HPs more than any of your other roses. A regular schedule of feeding for all of them should do the trick. It sounds like you've already gotten off to a good start by feeding the soil.

The real key to climbers is patience. They're slow starters for the most part and may not do any "climbing" for several years. Don't get discouraged and give them the time they need to mature. Really most any rose needs a good 3 years to fully mature before it will perform at it's best and climbers may take 5 years or more before they really soar.

I love the term, which conjures up really funny word pictures -- but despite the humor, I think it does mean that the benefit from heavy feeding. but, of course, Parade, Aloha, and Sombreuil aren't HP's.

Let me say, tho -- I self-pegged Mime Isaac Pereire, and I will NEVER do that again. I urge you strongly not to do it with Sombreuil. It will be a miserable task, and the rose, in the long haul, won't like it. My DH reminds me to tell you not to do it, and that the rose will bloom profusely without doing that.

You'll lose all those canes, and have to start over.

Jeri

To augment or maintain soil productivity, those early articles emphasize the use of farm manures or "artificial manures" -- the latter always referring ONLY to decomposed organic materials like grass clippings and other plant wastes (even corn cobs).

There's much to be learned from those who wrote and gardened in eras that were more agrarian by necessity, acutely observant of natural processes, and ignorant of chemical-based strategies for enhancing plant production. Recent online reading of an article in an 1882 issue of Vick's Monthly Magazine informed me that the residuals of a huge load of stable manure delivered here in late 2010 (and left fully exposed to the elements) has, by now, lost it's "manurial value". According to the writer, I can now use the remainders of the pile like leaf mold -- ie, to lighten the soil, but with no hope of actually enriching the soil. Darn.

Jeri

As for what constitutes a well-grown rose, IMO it all comes down to learning what a specific rose needs within a specific environment. There are some varieties (and often entire classes) that simply cannot be grown well in certain locations, regardless of the gardener's level of expertise.

I think all rosarians, "expert" or otherwise, launch out upon a new learning curve with each new rose -- and if they relocate, with each new garden. For instance, I learned the hard way that certain roses that grew beautifully in full sun in my first garden demanded afternoon shade if they were to do well in my present garden.

One of the most difficult lessons for me to learn with each rose -- antique or modern -- is what that rose prefers when it comes to pruning. Heavy-handed mistakes made in that activity can take a l-o-n-g time to right themselves (and at times it seems some never really do). Unless I have guidance from someone experienced with a rose that resents anything but light pruning, it becomes a tedious matter of trial and error.

I suspect most of us who have been at this for a while have roses that we proudly think of as well grown, and other roses that -- well let's not talk about those . . .

Ingrid