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melissaaipapa

The most beautiful roses in the world

So I was down in the bottom of the garden yesterday doing maintenance. There was that tall grass that has flopped down on top of the roses to shear, and, on the downhill side of the bottom bed at the property boundary, invading artemisia, wild plum, nettles, and the odious sticky Galium aperine to fight back. DH has been busy mowing the paths, and we have handsome walks, rich in weeds, clover, and grass, to walk between the beds of roses and shrubs and the four-five feet tall annual grass. The garden hasn't reached maturity, it doesn't yet have the massive shrubs and certainly not the trees it needs for that, but the grass certainly has gotten good, and that's the first step, the fertility that will power the garden as it grows.

The bottom bed was planted back in 2007-08 with mainly once-blooming old roses, many of them on dog rose rootstock. They're mature roses now, full of vigor. From a practical point of view, we were smarter than we knew when we planted them along the bottom edge of the property. We didn't know it then, but all that land is dropping, the steep ground growing steadily steeper. Below the garden, our neighbors' land is woods and brush. There are a lot of elms, and with their shallow roots elms are thoroughly useless for holding ground, as are the invading thickets of wild plum and brambles. But our old roses dig themselves in. The double line of Damasks, Gallicas, and so on, have dropped vertically, perhaps three or four feet; the bed is steeply sloped now, and so is the walk above it. But the land immediately below the roses has dropped vertically another six feet or so. The roses have held nobly, keeping the land in place.

I had a task down there I needed to do in this period. The roses have suckered, wandering through the bed, and I need to see them when they're in bloom to know what variety the suckers are, and pull the ones that are crowding the less vigorous varieties. I waded and crept among the roses, cutting grass, yanking the more obnoxious weeds, and flagging rose suckers for eventual removal, since I decided I wanted to see their flowering first. As I worked I came nose to nose with the most beautiful roses in the world, growing in their natural habitat of meadow. So delicate, so opulent, so noble: 'Blanchefleur', 'Pink Leda', 'La Ville de Bruxelles', 'Gloire des Mousseux' (which I suspect is actually 'Mme. Louis Leveque'), 'Violacea', 'Ypsilante'. And so on. Need I say that they're all wonderfully fragrant?

These roses are largely of European origin, and so it's not surprising that many gardeners in the U.S. have difficulties growing certain of them (Damask crud, chill requirements). They're perfectly adapted here, and are among the toughest shrubs a gardener can grow. I love everything about them, not only the flowers, but the buds, the foliage, the growth. I don't mind their being once-flowering. There are the Teas, equally lovely in a different fashion, that come before and then flower again marvelously in fall. There are all the other flowering plants that precede and follow them: spring flowering bulbs, violets, tree peonies, lilacs. There's always plenty to see and smell and touch. So I look forward to the once-blooming old roses, and when they flower I go and live among them: such a miracle. In nature the ancestors of these roses are many of them colonizing plants that grow in abandoned pastures, so our wildish meadow type of garden suits them both ecologically and aesthetically. Even though I need to remove some of the suckers--'Pink Leda' is particularly wide-spreading and vigorous--I'm glad for this habit, as it will help anchor the ground even better, and the beautiful suckering growth will compete with the unlovely brush spreading over from the neighboring land.

Melissa

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