Some May Roses….and a poem.

 

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The world is going to Hell in a Handcart, and there is  much turmoil today.  The political and social issues are thrust into our faces and the only way to escape is in the flower garden, hiding under foliage with the cats.

Regardless how you grow roses, in big pots or in the ground, they are a wonderful antidote to the chaos of life.

And society.

I am no expert on roses.  The trick  is finding roses that have the qualities of survival.  This can be tricky.  The English David Austen roses are lovely, but weak stemmed.  A rain shower can knock the blooms off. Climbers can be iffy, too.  I have several that I would recommend, a Madame Alfred Carriere, soft pink climber that is almost a constant bloomer.  The same with Graham Thomas, a butterscotch yellow.  Both of these are fragrant.  My neighbor, obviously not a gardener, said he had seen yellow roses in the stores, but had never seen them on the vine.  Something like that.  That made me laugh, because walking through the vegetable garden you get attacked by the Graham Thomas as it stretches out it’s stems and blossoms from the side of the house.  The Madame Carriere was 24×24 feet until we cut it down to do the siding.  It’s growing back with impunity.

Some of the very best roses are sturdy Tuscany reds, and the beautiful and prolific New Dawns.  I have two over an arbor and they are breaktaking.  I cut roses almost every day in the morning to put in the house, but most of them don’t last long.  Except the Tuscany.   Home Depot’s “Patio Roses” have turned out to be marvelous:  constant bloomers, reds and pinks and within a season you have to cut back because they will take over the garden and the world.

The one above, that silly red with white stripes is my hands down favorite.  I haven’t figured out what it is, but it’s the second year for it and it looks promising.  It’s crazy with buds so it should have a good showing in a week or so.  It makes me smile when I see it, and that is a good thing in life.

This is the luscious “New Dawn”.  It’s not quite at full pool yet inblooming but it will repeat over the summer a number of times. It’s a vigorous climber and great for a garden structure like a strong arbor. Smells like Ivory Soap.

 

Some New Dawn blooms I picked last night and put in a silver wine cooler.  They last about a day and a half in the house, but they are so beautiful, even in death.

“Wollerton Hall”, an English climber that has had a hard life.  I kept moving the poor thing for the last 3 years as we did construction on this old house.  This morning I noticed that it was blooming, finally, and this lovely bloom will be followed by about 5 other buds so far.  It’s decided it likes the afternoon sun because that is all it gets on the West side of the house.  The scent is like….cookies.

My dead aunt Barbara told me once that my grandfather, her father, was known for his rose garden.  He apparently had a knack with roses.  I have no idea what he grew, as he was long dead before I was born and no one is saying what kind of roses, but I would believe they were old China Roses and Tuscany.  We are so fortunate today to have so many selections to choose from. I guess I have a bit of his DNA with roses, but my gardens are so much easier to maintain.

A combination of New Dawn, an open faced Red, Sally Holmes rose and a random pink.

The one thing about roses is that they usually don’t disappoint.  My favorite was a Heritage rose, another David Austin that I had for 15 years before it finally gave up the ghost.  I would spring for another, but with 60 plus roses here, I would have to find a place.  Hope Springs Eternal when you are living with roses.

Spring Orgy

The roses are having an orgy.
They haven’t the decency to wait for the dark,
But ply their lust in the soft, morning light.

Randy Graham Thomas is leering.
Madame Carriere is blushing.
Her pink silk-petal gown flutters
As she twists coyly to avoid his embrace.

By 10am the sun warms their scents and foreplay is over.
The wind at 11am entwines the two.
Pistils and stamens are seriously ‘at it’
Brushing languorously over parts
And hour ago were covered discreetly.
At high noon in the heat of the day
Pollen is floating all over the air
And even the wide-eyed cats
Sitting under tender foliage are blushing.

The garden gnome is licking his lips
While a concrete hand creeps to his crotch.

This fall there will be rose-hips aplenty.
Red nipples packed with tiny seeds,
Evidence of a spring-time lust.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2018

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2018

Tags: "Spring Orgy" a poem, Graham Thomas, Madame Alfred Carriere, Patio roses that take over the world...., roses, Spring