If you know me well you know I am obsessed with my garden roses. I grew up with a window that overlooked my mother’s rose garden of nearly 70 roses. The scent, the petals, the thorn pricks, the endless bouquets, the looking up into the giant overgrown arbors with trailing huge white roses…you get the idea. When I first ordered my own I squealed and giggled as the tiny shoots arrived. I left all but one at my last house. (Blast!)
The precious one I kept is Jude the Obscure. Oh my peachy lemon myrrh heavens! He has been a constant summer friend for the last eight years. I buried a miscarried baby under him and so I think of him as a special caregiver. I thought he might die when I moved him, and he only had one bloom last year, but after lady bugs and fertilizer and watering and hand picking every last caterpillar from him he’s doing more than well. I got a little teary eyed when I saw all the buds! And I may need a trellis for him because he’s sending out climbers!
And then there’s Evelyn. Oh honey. She is like the underskirt of a moulin rouge dancer. She is the rose Crabtree and Evelyn use for their scents. It’s the strongest rosiest scent you can imagine. And she looks like a cross between a peony and a ranunculus with flamingo feathers. I want to set an arbor next to her and have her arch over the front walkway. She’ll stop traffic, you guys. She’s such a saucy minx!