Imagine a backyard of beige concrete, some 1000 square feet, bordered by bone-dry clay soil. A productive Meyer lemon tree shades the right edge of the yard, and the back is covered by a small Japanese elm, a large, a rounded juniper, and a guava tree with fruit I’ve never tasted because the squirrels always beat me to it. In the stretches of soil between these trees, which more closely resembled decades old Play-Doh than any sort of fertile ground, my dad decided to plant a rose garden.  We researched what types of roses we wanted, weighing what qualities we valued most – color, how it opens, stem length, and…