Prima donna

No matter how much care and attention I give my roses, they still complain.

We began the season with careful pruning and dormant spray to guard against pests in the coming spring. Judicious feeding followed, timed just right to avoid pushing premature growth. Periodic feeding came next--just enough--at proper intervals.

Finally, those roses began to deliver. Beautiful blooms, as promised. It's true. A single rose caught at just the right moment can out-do any artist's creation for pure beauty.

But then, after a tantalizing first bloom it began: signs of distress, creeping in subtly at first then with a declarative vengeance. Powdery mildew, rust, black spot.

All of which causes me to throw up my hands in frustration. What do they want from me?

I'll tell you what they want: Attention, that's what. Fussing. VIP care and special treats. These prima donnas require much more effort than the rest of my garden beauties combined.

I've come to the conclusion that roses are the divas of the garden. They are the Elizabeth Taylors of the plant world. Exquisite, to be sure, but spoiled rotten. Yes, they are glamorous in that Old Hollywood way. But roses are definitely high maintenance.

Some might say they are vulnerable or fragile. I don't buy it. I say they are demanding. Sure, they need to be pampered so they can be the star at weddings and funerals while the rest of the garden harvest fills in the supporting roles. The rose must prepare so it can deliver its overpriced performance for Valentine's and Mother's Day. It must be fawned over, catered to.

Then there are alstroemeria. You may not know them by name, but you know them by sight, like bit players on the screen. (Haven't I seen you somewhere before?) In the garden, you find the right spot for them and they spread ebulliently and without a care in the world. They ask for nothing. They simply glow and give in abundance.

When you pull an alstroemeria stem from its base, rather than cutting it, it actually encourages new blooms to grow. They are the Giving Trees of the flower world. The more you take, the more they deliver.

Alstroemeria are like those rare people who live to give.

My money says we all encounter roses in our lives. People who require more than their share of care. Sure, they are beautiful to behold but by the time you give them all they ask for you're too exhausted to enjoy them. Or you celebrate their dazzling beauty but all the while you're holding your breath for the next shoe to fall, or the next spot of mildew to creep in.

You need to earn their gift of beauty, if they choose to bestow it, that is. And when will the next wave of complaints begin? It's no accident that roses have thorns, but that's a metaphor already exhausted by the poets.

Like the beautiful people in life, roses are great to behold but you can't really relax around them-ever.

Then there are the alstroemeria in our lives, those good souls who simply shine and give in abundance without asking anything in return.

My alstroemeria are blooming with abandon, stems reaching every which way to find space to burst forth in beauty. They don't care that their shaded hillside has a blanket of prickly oak leaves choking their base. I try to keep them clear but it is a losing battle akin to Sisyphus pushing his stone up the mountain only to have it roll down again. So I place that task at the bottom of my to do list. Must take care of the roses first. Their complaints are so much more vocal.

And, in truth, it doesn't make much difference. The alstroemeria still push their lovely blossoms up from beneath the dried leaves, stretching up their heads whether or not anyone is there to notice.

I love people like that, bright and wild and carefree. The kind of people who shine no matter what adversity they endure, what attention they receive-or don't receive. Now I'm sorry I planted these beauties in the furthermost back corner of the yard. They really should be front, center. But those kind usually don't get the

LESLIE HAUKOOspotlight, do they?

If I were to ask the people in my life what kind of bloom I am ( a s s u m i n g they don't see me as some kind of faithful shrub that does its job but really doesn't draw much attention), I think they might describe me as a bulb, something that of

fers a short

lived performance then recedes back under deep cover.

I suppose there is ultimately a place for everyone in the garden bouquet-the prima donna, the

Giving Tree, even the weed.

So I wonder, who are you? OS/Acorn Newspapers

Here's what some of our local gardening buffs had to say about the recent In The Garden column on clay soil:

+Tom Whittaker of Westlake Village said that he has "finally, this spring, decided to take the clay by the horns." He's using a product called Profile, available at the Do-it Center.

"It's a mined and processed clay known generically as 'arallite' that comes in a texture reminiscent of the tiniest gravel," Tom said. "So far, though, I've been unsuccessful in finding a handy technique for breaking down those clods into something more like real dirt. This is a subject the articles I've seen just gloss over with a remark like 'pulverize the soil' without explaining how. To me, that's a giant step!"

+Karen Schaefer of Westlake Village amends her soil with free coffee grounds that she picks up at the local Starbucks.

+Peter Scovill of Thousand Oaks reminds us that the Rancho Las Virgenes Composting Facility gives away free compost every Saturday from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. They provide shovels but you need to bring your own container. The Rancho Las Virgenes Composting Facility is at 3700 Las Virgenes Road, Calabasas.

Call (818) 251-2200 for more information or visit www.lvmwd.dst.ca.us/index.html.

Thanks to all of you for sharing your trade secrets. -Leslie Gregory Haukoos Garden bits