Peak Rose
R. ‘Buff Beauty’
4 June 2023
By: James Lennox
Some cultures measure wealth in the number of cows you own. Others count children. Still others, heaven forbid, prefer to indicate wealth by driving flashy cars or wearing designer labels.
I score very poorly on all those counts. But for one month in late spring, right about now, I feel like the richest man alive. Yes, the garden at La Corolla has hit what I refer to as “peak rose”, that magical moment when the stars align, the rain hopefully holds off, the winds die down and some of my favourite roses decide to put on a show.
R. ‘William Lobb’
Of course, we’ve already had a couple of months of rose action before we arrive at peak rose. Various species have been and gone, acting as a prelude to the main performance. I’ll deal with those stalwarts another time, because right now, centre stage we have some of the finest examples of the breeder’s art hogging the limelight.
There’s a surge of growth right now that is nothing short of thrilling. Each day brings a new spurt. A combination of warmth, longer days and plentiful moisture allows the garden to move up a gear, rushing headlong towards a moment of midsummer madness. Roses are right at the forefront of that forward momentum. At times it can be overwhelming, too much to take in all at once. It’s an all-out assault on the senses. And that’s exactly the effect I was aiming for.
R. ‘Crepuscule’
It’s nigh on impossible to grow up in a gardening family in England and not have some affinity with roses. It’s all too easy, though, having grown up with them, to take roses for granted. Or worse, to shun them deliberately. They’re something our parents planted, they’re stuffy, and we’re told they’re more trouble than they’re worth, with all the spraying, pruning and dead-heading.
R. ‘Rambling Rector’
Younger gardeners are seduced by newer fashions – vegetable growing, grasses, prairie-style perennials. I know I was. When I first started gardening in Asturias I focused on the kitchen garden and, out of a nagging sense of horticultural duty, popped a couple of hybrid tea roses next to the house.
A rather inauspicious start to my rose-growing career as they were scentless, dull and disease-prone. High temperatures and constant humidity seem to spell disaster for certain roses, particularly hybrid teas, it transpired.
R. ‘Albertine’
When I set about expanding the garden proper, I was faced with a dilemma – I had too much space, not much patience and not enough money. I needed robust, relatively cheap, big plants that I could increase easily. Roses were the answer, particularly shrub roses, old and new, rather than the hybrid teas that had already faltered and wouldn’t suit the looser, more billowing garden that I was planning.
R. ‘Cerise Bouquet’ and R. ‘Pleine de Grâce’
More than anything, I wanted a definite crescendo, a deafening climax to the end of spring. So I turned to some old favourites and some less familiar faces to provide some reliable, low-maintenance, flowering oomph.
Rose season in full swing
Received wisdom has it that ‘Madame Hardy’ is the finest, purest white shrub rose and that you can’t go wrong with ‘Ispahan’ and ‘Fantin-Latour’ on the pink front. I concur. For something more sensuous, extravagant and borderline indecent, ‘Charles de Mills’ fits the bill with his full-petalled large crimson-purple flowers. Hale and hearty, shapely and scented, these roses give it their all for an entire month and are justly famed.
It’s safe to say that I’ve fallen for roses in a big way. Listing all the species and varieties I grow would try the patience of any reader. Instead, let me just mention a few, perhaps lesser known roses that have impressed me by their willingness to grow on a hot hillside with little attention and no chemical assistance. They all need room to breathe but cope well among trees and grass in a larger landscape.
R. ‘William Lobb’
‘William Lobb’ is an astonishing brute, armed to the teeth, shooting out limbs up to 10 feet in all directions. It’s worth every inch of space when the purple flower trusses open and age over a few days to the palest lavender grey. Before opening, the buds are sticky, as befits a moss rose, and have a piney scent.
R. ‘Cerise Bouquet’
‘Cerise Bouquet’ has bulked up into a mound 10 feet high by 15ft wide (and counting, it has a tendency on the hillside to root where it touches the ground). Deep pink clusters of double flowers and grey-green leaves with a hint of blue, it’s quite the eye-catcher when it’s in full swing.
R. ‘Eddie’s Jewel’
‘Eddie’s Jewel’ precedes ‘Cerise Bouquet’, which is just as well as I made the mistake of planting them within sight of each other, a colour clash that even I might consider slightly troublesome. Pure bright red flowers, followed by orange-red hips, it’s the very opposite of shy and retiring.
Roses lining the sweetgum avenue
When all the intense colours start taking their toll and your retinas are crying out for a break, along comes ‘Pleine de Grâce’. This is semi-evergreen for me, with large trusses of single white flowers and a propensity to climb. I somehow ended up with two, one of which is making friends with a Parrotia persica, the other is in a passionate embrace with a sweetgum and a Cornus kousa. Definitely a rose with a lust for life.
Roses and trees intermingling
The observant among you will have noted that all the above roses flower in late spring/early summer only. Species and repeat-flowering roses will just have to wait their turn. For now it’s all about the “one-show only” stars.
