The Rosa glacies, commonly known as the “ice rose,” can be a beautiful addition to your nocturnal garden. Some say the plant is too difficult for beginners, but we all have to start somewhere, don’t we? However, the propagation is not for the faint of heart, though not for the reasons you might suspect.
To successfully propagate the ice rose, think back to a time in your life when you felt the sting of betrayal. It’s there for all of us, some more than others. But a run-of-the-mill betrayal will not suffice. Nothing so simple as when your significant other dumped you for your best friend, or your rival received more grant funding than you. No, the betrayal must run deeper. It requires the sort of betrayal that turned your heart cold, never to trust again. Like when one of your colleagues in the lab stole your work, claimed it as their own, and used it to climb the academic ladder to become Dean of Biological Sciences … or something equally vile.
It must be the moment that turned your heart cold, because without such a moment, you cannot produce the necessary frozen sliver of your own heart that is the seed for the ice rose.
The fortitude to pull that shard forth is no small thing. Though it makes no biological sense, it can only be regurgitated. You will feel every moment of the sharp crystalline form traveling up your esophagus, rounding the pharynx, and depressing your tongue from the back. The pain will bring you to tears. (If you have the presence of mind, capture those tears in a vial. They contain nutrients vital to the growth of the ice rose. If you fail to preserve them, you can always generate more later.)
But assuming the regurgitation is successful, you will force a perfect shard of ice from your lips. Quickly transport it to the spot you’ve chosen in your garden for your ice rose, and plunge it into the ground, as though you were driving this icy shard of your own heart into that of the person who betrayed you.
If you have your reserved tears, sprinkle a few on the ground. Save the rest to water the plant as it emerges, but only use those tears on the nights of the new moon for the first three months after planting.
If you failed to collect your tears earlier, or if you saved insufficient tears, use memories of other betrayals and disappointments to bring yourself to tears, and harvest those instead. By no means should you use another person’s tears, nor should you use tears shed for other reasons. Tears of betrayal and disappointment are the only things that nourish an ice rose, and the former are far superior to the latter.
And then, wait.
Below the surface, the ice rose will take root. You may be impatient to see the fruits of your pain and labor, but as with all growing things, it takes time. Some believe that the deeper your betrayal, the more quickly the plant will emerge, but the measurement of degrees of betrayal is an imprecise science, so do not be disheartened if you see no sign of your new plant for several months.
Note, too, that the ice rose will not sprout green, but rather as a sickly, twisted, and immensely thorny black bramble. Do not succumb to the urge to consider your propagation a failure when you see what it produces first. The splendor is yet to come.
Many have asked how they might encourage their ice rose to grow more quickly or bloom sooner. Again, patience. If you find yourself in search of something to do while you wait, perhaps plotting revenge against the one who wronged you would be a suitable use of your time. It may not make the plant grow any faster, but it does give you something else to which you might turn your attention.
And then, on a clear night when the moon is full, you may hear a faint tinkling sound emanating from your garden. And there, in all her glory, Rosa glacies, the beautiful frost-rimed petals nearly glowing.
Now, for what to do with the blossoms, you’ll have to come back for part two, “Using Rosa glacies.”
Until then, my budding alternative botanists!
Dawn Vogel has written for children, teens, and adults, spanning genres, places, and time periods. More than 100 of her stories and poems have been published by small and large presses. Her specialties include young protagonists, siblings who bicker but love each other in the end, and things in the water that want you dead. She is a member of SFWA and Codex Writers. She lives in Seattle with her awesome husband (and fellow author), Jeremy Zimmerman, and their cats. Visit her at historythatneverwas.com or on BlueSky @historyneverwas.