around the rosary
Before "rosary" was applied figuratively to a group of prayers, it meant, literally, a rose garden, or the part of the garden where most of the roses are. Nyah. My rosary is still in its dream stage, with the very great help of Peter Beales's books Classic Roses and Modern Roses, mostly the former. So, herewith a game of ring around the dream rosary.
First up is the Alba rose Mme. Legras de St. Germain, a very long and easily misspelled name for a delightful lady. The flowers are white with just a hint of yellow at the very center, and very fragrant. No thorns! In my dream rosary, she's at the western edge of the bed, just where the postal carrier may brush by her in passing. No catching on his (or her) clothes, she's too much of a lady, but a nice little waft of fragrance s/he won't be able to ignore.
Her handmaid is Dainty Bess, the only Hybrid Tea I'll tolerate. She's a single, i.e. has only 5 petals, a very pretty soft pink, with unusual maroon stamens. Peter Beales says "golden brown", but his books are of England and English weather. In the AARS garden in Milwaukee, WI, her stamens were definitely dark red. I've never grown Dainty Bess, but I'd like to! A tad awkward as all Hybrid Teas, but anyone would be awkward between Mme. above and ...
Tuscany Superb, whom I envision as a very dashing, sexy Italian gentleman. He's a Gallica, with very dark red semi-double blooms that turn purple, real black-violet, as they age and fall. Very fragrant as anyone nicknamed Old Velvet should be. T.S. breaks very late, the latest I've ever had the experience of, but he's well worth waiting for.
Celsiana is a Damask, which Peter Beales believes to be a subset of the Gallicas. Now, I must say I adore the gallica flower forms, and I find the damasks to be a bit untidy, or a lot untidy, in comparison. But I did grow Celsiana once, and she was lovely. Light pink, lots of fragrance of course, and in one flower one summer a second bud grew right out of the middle of the first blossom. There's a name for it, and rosarians dither between calling it a fault or a virtue. I say, the more the merrier, especially if both are lovely, as it was those many years ago.
La Belle Sultane is another Gallica, with 5 very large purplish red petals. Not a lady at all, she sprawls and throws her arms -- er, canes -- all over any of the gentlemen within reach. Hot stuff! Her blossoms can be so big and purple (like T.S., they empurple with age) they can be mistaken for Clematis Jackmanii. Fending her off to the east is ...
Baronne Prevost, a Hybrid Perpetual who would be new to me. He's ranked as the most fragrant rose in cultivation nowadays. The pix show his blossoms to be very large, full, and pink, well able to bear up under the Sultane's enthusiasm.
And nearest the street, I save the best for last, the Gallica rose Charles de Mills. I must admit that for me Tuscany Superb is like an exciting lover, but Charles is like the ideal husband, utterly reliable, faithful, and really fantastic -- a prince among roses. His blossoms are quite fragrant, as you can expect by now, and not very large but very, very full of petals -- classically quartered. A medium-dark rose with silver reverse. It balls in the rain, but oh, how delightful to stand in it afterwards and gently stroke each blossom until the outer, glued petals split apart and the blossom opens up in its fragrance and utter rose-ness. Who says gardening is all dirt?
There are other roses I'd love to grow, but there's only so much space and money. If one of these 7 fails, there's Leda, a Damask rose that opens a very untidy white with reddish tips; Salet, a very pretty pink moss rose; Rosa Mundi, Rosa gallica versicolor, striped red and white; just for starters. In this rosary there's no room for climbers, but there is room elsewhere for Alchymist, the color of whipped honey and remontant in my experience although not in Beales's; Dr. Eckener, a hybrid rugosa bicolor of yellow and pink, fragrant and with extraordinarily vicious thorns; Dortmund, Kordes's masterpiece, a single rose of fire-engine red with a white eye and glossy, utterly pest-free foliage; Applejack, an eglanteria hybrid with semi-double pink flowers and soft green apple-scented leaves; Zephirine Drouhin, a Bourbon that enjoys shade, with double rose-red flowers and a fine scent (and for some reason very available this year); I could go on for hours.
So many roses! So little space!
First up is the Alba rose Mme. Legras de St. Germain, a very long and easily misspelled name for a delightful lady. The flowers are white with just a hint of yellow at the very center, and very fragrant. No thorns! In my dream rosary, she's at the western edge of the bed, just where the postal carrier may brush by her in passing. No catching on his (or her) clothes, she's too much of a lady, but a nice little waft of fragrance s/he won't be able to ignore.
Her handmaid is Dainty Bess, the only Hybrid Tea I'll tolerate. She's a single, i.e. has only 5 petals, a very pretty soft pink, with unusual maroon stamens. Peter Beales says "golden brown", but his books are of England and English weather. In the AARS garden in Milwaukee, WI, her stamens were definitely dark red. I've never grown Dainty Bess, but I'd like to! A tad awkward as all Hybrid Teas, but anyone would be awkward between Mme. above and ...
Tuscany Superb, whom I envision as a very dashing, sexy Italian gentleman. He's a Gallica, with very dark red semi-double blooms that turn purple, real black-violet, as they age and fall. Very fragrant as anyone nicknamed Old Velvet should be. T.S. breaks very late, the latest I've ever had the experience of, but he's well worth waiting for.
Celsiana is a Damask, which Peter Beales believes to be a subset of the Gallicas. Now, I must say I adore the gallica flower forms, and I find the damasks to be a bit untidy, or a lot untidy, in comparison. But I did grow Celsiana once, and she was lovely. Light pink, lots of fragrance of course, and in one flower one summer a second bud grew right out of the middle of the first blossom. There's a name for it, and rosarians dither between calling it a fault or a virtue. I say, the more the merrier, especially if both are lovely, as it was those many years ago.
La Belle Sultane is another Gallica, with 5 very large purplish red petals. Not a lady at all, she sprawls and throws her arms -- er, canes -- all over any of the gentlemen within reach. Hot stuff! Her blossoms can be so big and purple (like T.S., they empurple with age) they can be mistaken for Clematis Jackmanii. Fending her off to the east is ...
Baronne Prevost, a Hybrid Perpetual who would be new to me. He's ranked as the most fragrant rose in cultivation nowadays. The pix show his blossoms to be very large, full, and pink, well able to bear up under the Sultane's enthusiasm.
And nearest the street, I save the best for last, the Gallica rose Charles de Mills. I must admit that for me Tuscany Superb is like an exciting lover, but Charles is like the ideal husband, utterly reliable, faithful, and really fantastic -- a prince among roses. His blossoms are quite fragrant, as you can expect by now, and not very large but very, very full of petals -- classically quartered. A medium-dark rose with silver reverse. It balls in the rain, but oh, how delightful to stand in it afterwards and gently stroke each blossom until the outer, glued petals split apart and the blossom opens up in its fragrance and utter rose-ness. Who says gardening is all dirt?
There are other roses I'd love to grow, but there's only so much space and money. If one of these 7 fails, there's Leda, a Damask rose that opens a very untidy white with reddish tips; Salet, a very pretty pink moss rose; Rosa Mundi, Rosa gallica versicolor, striped red and white; just for starters. In this rosary there's no room for climbers, but there is room elsewhere for Alchymist, the color of whipped honey and remontant in my experience although not in Beales's; Dr. Eckener, a hybrid rugosa bicolor of yellow and pink, fragrant and with extraordinarily vicious thorns; Dortmund, Kordes's masterpiece, a single rose of fire-engine red with a white eye and glossy, utterly pest-free foliage; Applejack, an eglanteria hybrid with semi-double pink flowers and soft green apple-scented leaves; Zephirine Drouhin, a Bourbon that enjoys shade, with double rose-red flowers and a fine scent (and for some reason very available this year); I could go on for hours.
So many roses! So little space!
posted by Carrie | 12:22 PM
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