Roses of My Garden, Part 3: The Dark Ladies

Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au Soleil,
A point perdu ceste vesprée
Les plis de sa robe pourprée,
Et son teint au vostre pareil.

Darling, let us go see if the rose

who had opened her purple dress to the sun this morning,

by evening,already lost the folds of her purple dress,

and her glory that was your equal.

--To Cassandre, Pierre Ronsard

I have a weakness for dark roses.  Throughout history, roses were mostly white and pink-toned and darker shades were uncommon. It was not certain what kind of rose with purple (pourpure) petals the French poet Pierre Ronsard was talking about in the 15th century, but we can be sure that it was not the kind of dark red/purple colors we have in the hybrid teas today.  In the 1800's, there came a breakthrough in the rose hybridization, and out came numerous dark roses. They were often many-petaled and fairly fragrant.  The best examples were Madame Isaac Pereire (a divinely scented raspberry) and Charles de Mills.

Madame Isaac Pereire, as tradition would have it, was named after a lady, and, in this case, a Parisian banker.

As many of these roses were hybridized in France, they were given names of French persons, often prominent literati, politicians and socialites.  Released in 1881, Madame Isaac Pereire was named after a wealthy Parisian banker's wife. It was classified as a Bourbon rose.

This rose opens a deep pink and gets slightly darker as it ages.  The flowers are quartered and exemplifies those of a classic "cabbage rose." When grown with its canes pegged down horizontally, the flowers often pop up along each cane, giving a sumptuous display. What makes it stand out among all the roses, besides its color, is its gorgeous scent.  What is a rose without scent?  This rule was even more true in the 1800's.  This lady bears a strong old rose fragrance laced with a hint of berries.  It is so heady a fragrance that once one has smelled it, one will always identify it with this rose. Although it doesn't have a long stem, I love to cut a flower and place it in a bud vase so I can enjoy its visage and scent.

Not much was known about the breeder and origin of Charles de Mills.  Paul Barden, on his website, mentions that this rose might have been bred in Germany and received this French name once it reached France.  It has a light fragrance, okay for a gentleman.  It is a tidy shrub with fairly thornless cane.  Some people nickname it "Charles de Mildew" but I have no such problem with fungus on it despite the occasional long period of rain in New England.  I planted this rose on its own root in my garden one year and never saw it bloom for many years.  I completely forgot about it until, two years ago, after a rainy May and a sunny June, this shrub suddenly shined.

What was the name of the rose?  It was so gorgeous in every stage from bud until it lost the folds of its purple robe that I was flabbergasted that it just appeared out of nowhere in my garden.  And the display of blossoms was so profuse that the blossoms covered the plant! Searching through my plant order invoices, I discovered this rose to be Charles de Mills.  A Gallica from a romantic era of the past. An antique rose that deserves a space in the garden of every patient gardener.

Roses in My Garden, Part 2: Rosa Mundi

A riotous display of two unnamed roses.

...Et je suis la plus belle, oui, je suis la plus belle des fleurs de ton jardin.
(...And I am the most beautiful, yes, I am the most beautiful of all the flowers in your garden.)

          --Mon Amie La Rose by Francois Hardy

Rosa Mundi, meaning Rose of the World, is an antique rose dating from the Middle Ages. It is said that its name comes from Rosamund, the beautiful mistress of King Henry II of England.

Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled.

I wonder which rose William Butler Yeats was inspired by when he wrote about Rose of all the World in his poem?

This is Apothecary's Rose, the parent of Rosa Mundi, which is a sport (mutation) of the former, and whose new growth often reverts back to the former.  When I planted the Rosa Mundi in my garden, I got a plant with its own roots, which means that it wasn't grafted on a root stock.  Although they are smaller and often take longer to get to a good size, own-root roses survive inclement weathers better and are generally harder to kill.  Well, my Rosa Mundi keeps throwing up new shoots from underground and most of them turn out to be Apothecary's Rose!  So now I have a plant with two kinds of flowers on it, all through the work of Nature!

Roses in My Garden, Part 1, Graham Thomas and Other Yellow-Toned Roses

I love roses, always have, always will.  They come in such beautiful colors, shapes, and fragrances that I just want to collect them all.  Unfortunately, I don't have enough space with enough light in my garden, and some varieties are too tenders in my zone, but here are a few from my collection this June.

Graham Thomas was the first yellow rose I ever grew.  The one I planted in Southern California in the later 1980's is now a specimen.  At its height of glory, it grew to be 10 feet tall, sending out numerous healthy long, slender, fairly smooth shoots each topped with a bouquet of flowers.  The buds are apricot and pretty. The flower opens buttery yellow with a hint of apricot and quickly matures to a light yellow.  The fragrance is light, slightly citrusy, and atypical of old rose.  This is one of David Austin's English Rose hybrids and with it, he went on to create many other yellow-toned roses.  To me, it is still the classic. When I had a garden again in New England after years of apartment living, I planted another one.  This time, due to the colder weather in winter and confinement against other roses, it does not establish itself into an uninhibited specimen.  It is rather tamed next to my yellow house.

Shropshire Lad is another yellow rose from David Austin. It has a deeper cup and is of a more buff yellow than Graham Thomas.

Lady of Shalott is a gorgeous copper-toned rose created by David Austin.

Above and below are photos of a rose planted by the previous owner of my house.  I suspect it is a English rose with delicious fruity fragrance but a not sure of its proper name.  

My Garden in April 2012, Part 2

Narcissus 'Salome," as seductive as the hedonistic biblical beauty.

Nothing signals the arrival of spring better than a Narcissus.  Commonly know in English as daffodils, they come in colors not just white and yellow, but "pink," as this shade of salmon is commonly called in the Narcissus world.  Narcissus 'Salome' is one of the oldest and most famous pink Narcissus that spearheaded the quest for pink daffodils. 'Professor Einstein' dates from the 1940's.  These days, pink Narcissi are not as unusual as they used to be.

N. 'Art Nouveau' is a double "pink" Narcissus.

Another double "pink" Narcissus 'Delnashaugh'

N. 'Professor Einstein' has an orange cup.

As it is, the orange cups of daffodils tend to fade over time.  'Professor Einstein' starts out with a dark orange cup in the middle of the flower, but after sitting in a sun for a couple of days, only the periphery and the "veins" in the cup remain the same color, the rest looks a bit washed out.  It is often advised to plant these pink ones in filtered sun.

Hybridizers have strived to breed Narcissi that are "sun-proof."  The late Grant Mitsch achieved this goal with numerous varieties. http://www.mitschdaffodils.com/exhibition.html

Now let's look at some white Naricissi in my garden:

'Obdam'

'Stainless'

'Weena,' a heirloom variety that opens with a creamy trumpet.

'Weena' flowers at the same time as 'Stainless'

'Stainless'  provides a sparkling focal point when the peonies begin to leaf out in April.  Absolutely gorgeous!

That's all, folks!  More flowers next time!!

My Garden in April 2012

Spring of 2012 came early.  Almost one month early.  As the result of that, all my bulbs began to bloom in late March and peaked in April.  Hyacinths are the first, followed by Narcissi.

This was what I saw on April 09, 2012.

Pink hyacinth and Narcissus 'Wisley'.

Narcissus 'Wave' returned for the second season.

Narcissus 'Art Nouveaux'

Narcissus 'Pistachio'

Narcissus 'Golden Echo' is a jonquilla: fragrant, prolific and adaptive.

Narcissus 'February Gold' is one of the earliest flowers

N. 'Accent' returns several seasons for me at this dappled spot below large trees.

The intense orange cups of N. 'Professor Einstein' glow in the dark and sun.

N. 'Cassata' is as delicious as its namesake.

Besides Narcissi, there are a multitude of other plants welcoming the early arrival of spring...

Helleborus blooming in abandon.

Elegant white Hyacinth accompanied by blue Muscari.

Iris bachanaris in its second season.

Bleeding heart unfurling its flowers.

White hyacinth and Tulip 'Heart's Delight"

Tulip 'Toronto' can bloom with 3 flowers on each stem.

Violas are the happy faces of spring.

More spring flowers on the next post!