Old White Roses
Joan Shaw
We have an all-white garden across the oval drive from the house that is always in bloom. A large part of it is made up of varieties of white roses, both old and new, but there are lilies in there, too, and peonies, dianthus, astilbe, and forget-me-not, all in white. Scattered throughout these plants are frothy patches of white feverfew ( Chrysanthemum parthenium 'Flore Pleno') that have crept in of their own volition. This past summer it was invaded by a hollyhock, in almost the exact center, thumbing its nose at everyone. It grew to be a huge thing. I'd let it stay there and bloom – I was in no condition to be pulling out anything this past summer with a fractured vertebra. I was hoping against all reason that its blossoms might turn out to be at least cream. Instead they were deep pink. I had to admire its chutzpah in shouldering its way in there – it really stood out.
In the normal run of things, white flowers do help the colors around them stand out. Near this white garden is a long bed of white feverfew, the source of the invasion mentioned above, interspersed with bright red poppies – a startling display in midsummer. White roses, especially, help create a buffer between a pink rose, say, and an orange-yellow that would otherwise clash like cymbals. And there are many white rose types to choose from, all of them charming, especially the older varieties which are also intensely fragrant.
Rosa alba 'Semi-plena'
One of the older varieties of white roses here at DragonGoose Farm is Rosa alba 'Semi-plena,' a full-blown blossom of which is shown at the head of this essay. 'Semi-plena' has been used for centuries in distilling attar of roses (an extract of essential rose oils). No surprise, surely – its fragrance is both heavenly and intense.
An added attraction of 'Semi-plena' for me,
and I feel this about all our old roses here, is the knowledge that its simple
beauty and intoxicating fragrance has been enjoyed by untold numbers of people
down through the centuries.
To the right is this young plant as it looked in early July of this past summer. 'Semi-plena' can be grown as a rambler and can reach eight to ten feet. Ours was a rooted cutting (called by nurseries 'own root' or OR) bought from Vintage Gardens, and so it started out rather small. Nevertheless, in its third season it showed excellent growth and gave us a good bloom. (Raising a rooted cutting, though requiring more patience than raising a grafted rose, eliminates worry about suckering root stock – a perennial problem here, especially with our frigid, northern Utah winters.)
Rosa Moschata Plena - The Musk Rose
Another old white rose, also used for attar of roses, is R. Moschata plena or The Musk Rose. This is an ancient plant to whose (apparently contradictory) identity Graham Stuart Thomas devotes five pages in his Rose Book. Ours came from the nursery, Roses of Yesterday*, in 1995. The delicate, milk-white flowers of this plant, occurring in late summer, have a more spicy fragrance than the 'Semi-plena,' and though it's described as a spreading shrub, it will climb to eight feet given enough shade.
The one we planted five years ago on the west side of our house is blessed with a bit too much shade, and a drastic pruning of lower branches on surrounding trees is on the schedule for late winter. The bloom is described as prolific, and perhaps we'll enjoy this phenomenon after giving it a little more light and air. So far, the blooms have been fairly sparse.
On 2001's buy list:
'Felicité et Perpétue,' a Rambler
Two white Old Garden roses are on my spring 2001 buy list. One is a rambler,'Felicité et Perpétue,' introduced in 1827 by the gardener to the Duke of Orléans and named in honor of two French martyrs. The foliage of 'Felicité et Perpétue' is dark green; the beautifully formed rosettes start out as palest pink, fading quickly to white, and are borne in large, long clusters. The photographs of this rambler show a charming plant, its clusters – described as softly fragrant – practically obscuring the foliage when in full bloom. An added attraction for me is its ability to extend the bloom season, since it starts late and blooms over several weeks.
And 'Madame Hardy,' a Damask
The other on my list is 'Madame Hardy,' a rose of the Damask class that was introduced in 1832. It was developed by Eugene Hardy and named for his wife – a gesture of devotion indeed, for this rose is universally beloved by Old Rose enthusiasts. In fact, 'Madame Hardy' has been praised in every rose book I've ever consulted. I've wanted to have one of these roses for years. The blossoms – sweetly fragrant, fully packed with creamy white petals, and set off with a green eye in the very center – reveal a good bit of Centifolia in its parentage. This rose will go by itself in a spot close to the house.
'Frau Karl Druschki'
A lovely Old Garden rose that we've had here since 1985 is the white 'Frau Karl Druschki' (introduced in 1901 and shown at left), also known in the early years of the twentieth century as 'Snow Queen' and 'White American Beauty.' Though classed as a Hybrid Perpetual, its parentage actually points to a hybrid tea which shows up tellingly in its large, high-centered blossoms. The 'Frau' is a vigorous bush, however, with no pampering needed during the Cache Valley winters that have laid low so many of our Hybrid Teas. That toughness and its erect Hybrid Perpetual posture must have been what landed it in the HP grouping. We've moved this plant once – mainly to give it more room to spread out – causing no apparent injury. It has a terrific show of large, pure white blossoms in early summer with a light fragrance. The bush, shown here to the left, has a height and spread of four to five feet, is very well behaved, and after the first early summer flush, blooms for us, sporadically, throughout the summer.
'Blanc Double de Coubert'
The whitest of the white Old Garden Roses
is 'Blanc Double de Coubert,' shown at right, a French
introduction, appearing first in 1892. This rose is a Rugosa, with dark
foliage and loosely double, brilliantly white, very fragrant blossoms. Its
first flush occurs here in mid rose season, followed by a nice rebloom throughout
the summer.
The 'Blanc Double de Coubert' blossoms have an intoxicating fragrance. Two of these roses start the Old Garden roses row to the west of our house – a type of clarion call to the senses as one walks through the eighty to ninety feet of old-rose fragrance. In this same row, about three plants down, are two R. Rugosa albas, tall bushes with huge white, single, very fragrant blossoms. These roses also bloom sporadically after the first flush in early summer.
"Darlow's Enigma," the mystery rose
"Darlow's Enigma," shown at left, in almost
full shade, came into its own only this past summer. We bought this rose
from Heirloom Roses five years ago as a rooted cutting. After three years
of getting settled in, it gave us a few, very precious blossoms, sweetly
fragrant, in 1999. But in the summer of 2000, it truly overwhelmed us, blooming
beautifully from early summer right through the first couple of hard frosts
in autumn. The photo here shows its generous habit, but what can't be discerned
are the tiny white blossoms that open flat, showing delicate bosses
of gold stamens, grouped together in clusters. The perfume is both lightly
sweet and penetrating, drifting on misty mornings clear up to the front porch
some fifteen feet away.
"Darlow's Enigma" (the double quotes denote a study name) is a found rose of unknown origin, acquired by Heirloom Roses from a man named Mike Darlow. Louise Clements of Heirloom Roses tells me they'd found an identical rose, also unknown, while visiting the Owens Garden in Eugene, Oregon. She goes on, "We were told that many of the roses (there) came from a woman in Eugene who had a very large rose garden and as she was getting older she donated many of them to the Owens Garden and to others (probably Mike Darlow included)."
The Heirloom people feel that "Darlow's" is descended from Rosa moschata. Its vigor and winter hardiness coupled with its prolific bloom in heavy shade mark it as a tough plant, perhaps a seedling, and much like those hardy old roses gracing cemeteries and abandoned homesteads all over the country.
Rosa centifolia muscosa alba, 'Shailer's White Moss'
'Shailer's White Moss' appeared on the scene as a named rose in 1790, according to Graham Stuart Thomas, who describes its size as "modest." We planted ours in the spring of 1993 in the cutting garden, and its Eglantine-like growth easily tops out at ten wiry, thickly branched and prickly feet. A couple of years ago I wrapped a clothesline around it and anchored it to an eight-foot-high fence post simply to mow the grass in front of it without putting myself in the hospital. It's still tied up that way, and a good hard pruning is on my to-do list for next spring. The blossoms, however, are lovely – fully double, creamy white, deliciously fragrant, and last for almost a week in the vase.
'Nevada,' a white shrub rose
The shrub rose, 'Nevada,' of which our 'Marguerite Hilling' is a pink sport, has been introduced comparatively recently – in 1927. It has single blooms, four inches in diameter, that flower all along its arching branches. This is a rose for whose promised burst of growth we've been anticipating for three years. We bought it as a rooted cutting, which means it started out small. After a period of coddling in Melanie's rose bed, she transplanted it into the middle of our white garden. It's therefore still a juvenile, but in not too many years its branches may well reach to the outer limits of the bed. The peonies and lilies will have to be moved before that point, but that's one thing about gardens – they do evolve. Things do need moving or discarding or rejuvenating. Gardening, if nothing else, is a study in watchful reorganization.
Online sources for roses discussed:
Heirloom
Roses
White
Flower Farm
Wayside
Gardens
Arena Rose
Co.
Link to browse for books on roses
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