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| I was just writing about the damask rose Madame Hardy on another forum, and it got me thinking. I first met Madam Hardy when I was a small child and I was completely enchanted. I can remember clearly, standing before her absolutely mesmerised by the silkiness of her petals, that exquisite green button eye, the way she held her blooms against her soft green leaves and her perfume that enveloped me. She seemed to me as though she was a rose from a fairytale. I grow, or have grown a lot of roses and they have all been beautiful. But I can only think of four, that have that something extra. They may not have the strongest perfume. Which ones have I forgotten? Daisy |
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| I have had an undying love affair with Madame Gregoire Staechelin (and have wittered on about this rose, innumerable times) which never lets me down. The first soft matte green foliage with the slightest edging of crimson, the overarching vigour of its canes....then, the fat pink buds open to graceful, nodding loosely arrayed petals of the clearest pink....which smells of sweet peas and even a touch of convallaria. My rose will bloom for over a month, showering the garden with petals and leaving behind enormous fat heps which gradually change to a deep tawny orange, just about now. It roots well (and consequently, plants are popping up all over Cambridge, in friend's garden, allotment edges and even a couple of parks and graveyards). I like single roses most of all, and wildlings top my list, fitting in well with untidy allotment gardening amongst the fruit and veggies. However, one rose stands out for me - true it does not last very long and can look like a gaunt and spiny beast, but R.moyesii performs a remarkable revival every year. From a gigantic naked woody stem, many branches arch in nakedness until late, late in the spring when almost overnight, a million tiny pale green leaves unfurl with tight green buds which give not a hint of the brightness within. I guess it has been placed in a fortunate spot where the setting sun shines through the petals. Underplanted with pyrethrums, russian sage and a glorious crimson hazel, the entire back end of my plot glows, just before I think about packing my tools away for the day. It feels almost like a benediction - a sign-off to another day of fecundity amongst the flowers. A rose which will follow me everywhere (although I may never again get so lucky with its placing). Thanks, Daisy. These little threads make me pause and think for a while - a bit of reflection in a humdrum but manic day. |
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| For me, that wonderful rose with indefinable charm is 'Madame Plantier.' (Is it a hybrid noisette, a hybrid alba or a hybrid china?) It was my introduction to old roses and is still the one I most often think about throughout the year. I await her bloom season each year like Christmas, and I never fail to be thrilled by her impeccably formed white blooms which produce one of the most exquisite fragrances in all of rosedom. This perfume wafts and scents the entire garden. I admire her extraordinary health and hardiness, her lack of thorns, and her pliable canes which are suited to be trained as either a massive fountaining shrub or a charming climber. I planted a band in my new garden in autumn 2011, and it was the first rose I thought of to plant. It grew steadily all last season, but I am hoping 2013 is when it will start to "leap." Once it starts to reach its mature size I will plant a Clematis 'Rooguchi' near its base to clamber and twine through its branches. Other roses that I find to be uniquely charming are 'Stanwell Perpetual', 'Common Moss' and 'Belle de Crecy'. Each one, to my eyes and nose at least, has a singularly beautiful flower form, color and scent which makes them supreme representatives of their classes. In terms of groups or classes of roses, I find my heart is most often intrigued by the hybrid chinas. They are hardy as nails and have amazing bloom forms and colors and scents. If only I had unlimited space to grow them all! And finally, at risk of being lynched, I must mention that I also think that many of the dark red/crimson hybrid teas have that certain indefinable charm that is not matched by other roses. These roses seem to reign supreme in the romance of color and scent. To my nose, they have the deepest, richest and most lingering damask fragrances and their petals look and feel like the finest velvet. I love it when they "blue" at the end. |
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- Posted by melissa_thefarm NItaly (My Page) on Tue, Feb 5, 13 at 13:38
| I don't know, possibly because it's winter now without a rose in sight, and in my memory so many of my roses are supremely beautiful and invariably faulty (I'm pruning now and living with the daily evidence of dead and smashed canes, gall, cane girdler, and so on). But I do so agree with the idea of BEAUTY as distinct from quantity of bloom, healthy abundant foliage, and even fragrance, as a quality greater than the sum of a rose's parts. Thanks for the reminder. |
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| For me it would be Mutabilis, which opened the doorway to the old roses when I first laid eyes on a gorgeous specimen. Mine, even now when my garden is at its least beautiful, is a huge, healthy bush covered with old and new leaves and growth and even a few flowers. It's big and spectacular, with the grace and charm of the Chinese roses, none of which appeal to me as much as this one. La France for its large and luscious blooms and wonderful fragrance, everything that an old rose should be even though its touted as the first of the hybrid teas. Would they were all as beautiful and special as this one. Potter and Moore, an old Austin that personifies what his stated goal is, combining the charm and beauty of the old roses with the rebloom qualities of the new. There may be newer and better Austins than this one, but most of them seem to have one flaw or another. P&M is new in my garden, so it remains to be seen whether it lives up to my high hopes for it. The huge silvery pink blooms of William R. Smith are captivating in a way that my other tea roses can't match, although some come close. It's a combination of size and color that give it that special charm. I'm so happy to have it in my garden. Souvenir de la Malmaison makes a statement like few of my other roses because its beautiful blooms are so abundant on a healthy and full-leaved shrub for almost the entire year. It looks supremely elegant, and it is fragrant, although that particular fragrance is not my favorite. Ingrid |
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- Posted by annececilia z4b/N.Michigan (My Page) on Tue, Feb 5, 13 at 20:05
| For me it is Gertrude Jekyll. Perhaps it is because some say she is stingy with bloom and she has not been so for me. Perhaps it is because she is so wickedly armed and dangerous to hold that I feel brave for approaching her. No, no, it is all about that scent - that perfume that lifts me out and above the day with its cares crowding my mind. I cannot walk by without burying my nose in her petals. Every year when her first blooms open I hang about her in adoration, breathing deeply, thinking "Ahhh, yes. THIS is what has been missing from my life all winter." |
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| Basye's Purple. Not OGR, but than neither are the Austins. Everything about this 1968 rose is extraordinary. No disease, charming deep purplish-red single blossoms graduating toward royal purple toward the outer petals. A neat ring of stamens edged with silver. Thorn lined branches with a natural growth habit that's never leggy or over dense. Fragrance and beautiful fall leaf color. Only the very best OGR's can compete with it. Requires very little pruning and no spraying in the hot and humid Southeast. The most stylish rose I know of with the possible exception of Pax. |
Here is a link that might be useful: Rose highlights of the Brooklyn Botanicl Garden
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- Posted by daisyincrete 10? (My Page) on Thu, Feb 7, 13 at 8:49
| Oh yes Suzy. How could I not think of Mme Gregoire Staechelin. I grew her in Surrey, and when I read that she was bred by Pedro Dot, in Spain, and that she was also known as Spanish Beauty, I thought a better name would have been Spanish Dancer, as her lovely frilly petals reminded me of a flamenco dancer. And Moyesii, the sunset behind those richly coloured petals, must make it look like a bonfire. Ispahan, I should know Madame Plantier, but I don't recall her. Looking at her photos, she looks as though she is similar to Madame Hardy. They are both beauties. I do understand what you mean about those deep red, perfumed, hybrid teas. I have never grown one, but have admired them in English gardens for years. I must be missing them though, as I have ordered Oklahoma for next year. Ingrid. I was remembering the first time I saw Mutabilis. annececilia, Yes, Gertrude Jekyll's perfume is gorgeous. Newtie, I don't know Bayse's Purple at all. Melissa, you will remember suddenly, when you first encountered a special rose.
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| Intriguing question. The answer took awhile to develop, and I might come up with more later. One rose that has that indefinable grace, for me, is Pascali. Its one flaw is lack of scent. The flower form is exquisite and the plant lasted longer than many and in a difficult site. It was grafted and so eventually left. Cath |
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