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By Dan Vierria Garden Jabber

Roses, like humans, prefer morning sun and late afternoon shade for optimum summer performance and comfort. July, August and lately September have been excessively hot, forcing roses into survival mode.

“On many red roses, the edges will burn or, essentially the petals turn into potpourri,” says master rosarian Ellie Longanecker of Carmichael. “Blooms will decrease in size and the plant will produce fewer flowers and wilt.”

TJ David, co-creator (with Sylvia Villalobos) of the World Peace Rose Garden in Capitol Park, assesses Sacramento’s heat challenges as basically selecting the right roses.

Longanecker agrees. “Not all roses are created equal,” she says.

“The most important thing is to separate one’s biased opinions verses reality,” David says. “Many folks are in love with the names of roses but should focus on performance. Roses are often sold by pictures. I like seeing samples of the real deal before I make my decision.”

Longanecker says she is pickier about growing roses because she cuts and shows them in competitions.

“My first choice for cutting roses is mornings,” she says. “Second is when it is cool in the evenings and never midday when it is hot. Carry a clean pail and immediately submerge the stem in cool water that has a pinch of sugar.”

“Cutting a rose from one’s garden and giving it to somebody says I love or care about you in ways words may not convey,” David adds.

Dan Vierria is a University of California Cooperative Extension Master Gardener for Sacramento County. He can be reached at masterg29@gmail.com. For answers to gardening questions, contact the UCCE Master Gardeners at (916) 876-5338, email mgsacramento@ucanr.edu or visit sacmg.ucanr.edu. Previous columns can be found and shared at InsideSacramento.com. Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram: @insidesacramento. n

As the airplane door shut on my flight home from Honduras, a woman stood and spoke to us in Spanish.

I didn’t understand her words, but my “Chappy sense” quickly recognized her intent. The translation by my seatmate helped too.

“She wants to say a prayer,” said my neighbor, who introduced himself as a missionary.

I know you might expect your chaplain to bow his head and close his eyes. But I wasn’t feeling it.

There was little about this that felt right. So I glued my eyes wide open, determined not to pray.

Why did I take such umbrage?