The dream did not come suddenly. It ripened over years, like a bud on a slender stem. Once, in childhood, I saw a rose of unparalleled beauty through my neighbor's fence. Purple, with velvet petals, it smelled so strongly that it made my head spin. I asked for a cutting. The neighbor smiled: "If you grow it, you're a hero." The first cutting dried up. Then the second, the third. But the passion did not fade. Now, thirty years later, I cannot imagine life without roses. They have become my cause, my pain, my pride. And today I will tell you how a simple hobby turned into destiny.The First Bud, or How I Believed in MyselfThe sixth cutting survived. It was a miracle: I soaked it in honey, wrapped it in film, placed it by the southern window. And one day tiny leaves emerged. And two months later — a bud! It was crooked, pale pink, without a scent. But I cried like a child. I realized: I can. It was with this rose, which I called "Hope," that my collection began. Now I have over four hundred varieties. But I still remember the first one. It died of black spot in a harsh winter, but it remains in my heart.Roses as a Business: From Hobby to ProfessionFor a long time, I worked as an engineer at a factory. Roses were my sanctuary. In the evenings and on weekends, I delved into the soil, propagated, pruned. My colleagues rolled their eyes: "Found something to do." But one day I calculated: selling seedlings and bouquets brings as much as my salary at the factory. I quit. It was scary. My wife supported me. I rented a plot, built greenhouses. At first, I made mistakes: bought sick seedlings, lost crops to frost. But I learned from my mistakes. Now I conduct master classes, people come to me from all over the region. Roses feed my family and bring joy.Secrets of Growing: What I Learned in 30 YearsRoses do not like bustle. They need a routine, love, and cold calculation. The main rule: good drainage. The roots should not be wet. Second: at least six hours of sunlight a day. Thir ... Read more