I blame Frances Hodgekins Burnett; The Secret Garden set me longing for her curtains and pillars of bloom. There's one bed in my garden, starting at the southwest corner of the upper patio, where it's so rarely possible to do anything except prune and irrigate that the resemblance to Mary's garden grows stronger every year (seen here on the first day of summer, 2008, looking west). I don't count the time I put into it, since it's mostly a matter of triage on dead branches and application of the "if it hits you in the face, cut it back" rule.
The red is Climbing American Beauty, a wichuriana hybrid of about 1913 from Dr. van Fleet, along with white campion and a red dutch pear. It's one of the few roses I've propagated; I put a stem of the flowers in water the first summer I was married, and when I went to toss the vase there were roots.
This is the "other end" of the Ispahan trellis, with Russell's Cottage rose behind and a chimera of Dr. Huey rootstock, dark red, and Great Maidens Blush, pink; the latter was ordered from Roses of Yesterday and Today about two years after Ispahan, and has been sickly all its life; the only reason it's still in the garden is that it has a huge complicated root burl, and I can neither dig it up on my own nor get cooperation for the young and healthy to dig it up.
For an idea of how long the whole Ispahan trellis is, a totally inadequate photo from last February, back when I tried mightily to get pictures to illustrate a how-to on maintaining this rose. The long stake in the center of this photo is the one that appears to the left in the first picture of Ispahan on the earlier post about that rose.
If you really do want to learn how to take care of this rose, or other large damasks, portlands, or albas, look in the index of The Well Tempered Garden by Christopher Lloyd, published in 1970.
There are three huge roses growing on the south side of the house.
From left to right they are Mutabilis, Buff Beauty (which didn't get staked and maintained this year and which was smashed to the ground in a hailstorm to stew up bruised perfume) and Long John Silver. Mutabilis is one of the Old China Roses and blooms any time the temperatures stay above freezing- which is a problem in any climate where there is a winter where temperatures stay below freezing. Long John Silver...
... is beautiful, and takes a commitment to pruning and slashing and hard physical labor. It is scented of myrrh, and although it is officially "once blooming" I've had single blooms on it in October. If you have an old building you can't tear down and don't want to look at, I expect you could let it rip, but as it is the larger offspring and I typically spend 40-50 hours a year pruning it and tying it in and generally keeping it from shading out or crushing anything within thirty feet of its base. On the other hand, cheaper than joining a gym.
All of the roses on the south wall were planted between 1994-1997.
(please excuse the extremely low rent nature of my south house front; we need to rip all the plants away, replace the kitchen exhaust fan, and re-side the entire wall; we'd also be well advised to replace the damned slider, but that takes money and expertise not currently available)
There are three big horses growing on the rustic pergola, seen below looking south from the clothesline:
Left to right, Darlow's Enigma, a reblooming climber of unknown origin discovered in Western Washington by Michael Darlow, probably a spontaneous hybrid of a R. multiflora rambler and a R. wichuriana climber (although on bad days I accuse it of being a bigeneric hybrid with Himalya blackberry) Felicite et Perpetue, a French Rambler from Mr. Paul, and Brenda Colvin (also the rose in my icon), a modern Rosa fillipes rambler, all spellings prone to later correction. I got the DE from Michael Darlow in 1992 or so; Felicite et Perpetue and Brenda Colvin are both from Heirloom Roses, although I think you have to go to the nursery to get them (this is also true of Long John Silver); I think both of those plants are the same age, which is about five.
In a week or so, when F&P is finished blooming, I'll have to take all the canes which have bloomed back flat to the ground, and start training in and selecting the canes I want to bloom next year; this is a result of having a rambler rose on a narrow structure in the middle of the lawn. Brenda Colvin is a harder case; it didn't get pruned sufficiently this last winter, and as a result will need some severe discipline and the application of more timbers (seen through the grass neer the center of the photo) when I can get time and labor.
Second view of the pergola, with a very virused "New Dawn" (everblooming sport of Dr. W. van Fleet, wichuriana Hyb. from Burbank) at right that WILL, as Ceres Pomona is my witness, get yanked out and replaced with Paul Ricault. At the left is one of my strong recommendations for small gardens and inexperienced or time-challenged gardeners, Ghislaine de Feligonde (ever-blooming Noisette rambler). No, really, the only thing complicated about that rose, if you are USDA Zone 6 or warmer, is the name. She needs one or two firm dead-headings a year and fertilizer when and if you remember.
New Dawn is a notoriously rampant and healthy rose, but the one I got was from RY&T by way of Michael Darlow, and has been sickly all its life.
Julia, this will be expanded as people ask questions or make comments, please thank you.
