Apparently, you can’t grow roses ’round here’. I know this is true, because the person who informed me that I had too many old-fashioned flowers and who also knows that ‘orange has no place in a garden’, told me. Roses just will not grow, you see.
Fortunately, the garden didn’t hear her.
This is the rose hedge by the kitchen, not listening. The house is set into a hill, into which the kitchen path is cut, so this arches above your head (and sometimes gives your hair a quick comb). It is clearly deeply unhappy.
In fact, I have never known it to flower so luxuriantly nor for so long as it has this year. Almost a month. And it’s scented. Cannot resist another shot:
This also illustrates why I haven’t blogged much. I have been busy watering… no, North Wales is not always wet. This year, parts of it look more like North Africa. Only not so green.
Here is another rose which looks unhealthy and depressed at being asked to grow where roses cannot be grown.
This one is a climber, and covers the gable end (and most of the bed beneath it) in delicately scented apricot-coloured petals. Here I must admit that the Rose Denier had a point, but note past tense: had.
There were two trees on the opposite side of the path that runs next to the gable end, an enormous Western Red Cedar and a rowan. The WRC had to come down because it was either that or the house (I am tediously conventional sometimes) and the rowan brought itself down in 2014’s January storms. Obviously the trees had an impact on light, but I’d not realised to what an extent they’d also created a wind tunnel. Now they’re removed, the rose flourishes. No, it doesn’t, because roses don’t grow round here.
Tell it to my Rosa rugosa hedges:
And they probably won’t believe you either. But they might scratch you for thinking like that.
Nor will the mystery rose (actually, they all are, because I have no idea of any specific identities) which grows on the trellis outside the bedroom window:
Nor will the little rose which sprawls over the path going round the front of the house:
And nor will the white rose bush nearby. Actually, this is one which may come out soon; it is ancient and craggy and every year I think it will keel over and every year it does this:
Usually it does it twice, and usually it looks a whole heap better second time round without the garish Alchemilla next door.
So, as you can see, roses just will not grow. I mean, it’s not as though I feed them or anything, because I don’t. I’m afraid that if I fed them I’d never get into the house. But they don’t grow round here.