February - I was laid low with the dreaded flu while the Beast from the East raged outside. My rose bush was blackened by frost.
March - The snow thawed. My MA work became more intense while my rose bush fought a different battle. An aggressive neighbour, a Virburnum Davidii with no respect for the space of others, was overwhelming her. The shrub had to go.
April - Secateurs were employed along with spades, forks, some digging, some pulling and several unladylike words (Ok, so Mr A did most of the heavy work... ok, ok, he did all of the heavy work!). The bully shrub was gone leaving my rose bush hanging pale and emaciated. (I didn't tell Sister about this so, 'Sorry, Sis x'.)
Steaming summer - My rose was charred by the relentless sun. She longed for a good downpour of rain, as did we all.
Autumn - The garden is turning to shades of gold and brown while my rose has finally produced her 2018 blooms. Here she is early this morning after a cold, wet and windy night... and you can still see the gap where the offending shrub once stood.
My rose bush is truly a tough cookie, but then I guess we all have to be these days to survive.
