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Distant Drums

Griffith Buck bred this rose as part of his program to create a class of roses that had large flowers like the hybrid tea or grandiflora roses, but were more resistant to disease. While he may have made progress towards that goal, this rose is notable for one reason: the colour. Depending on the weather, the huge flowers can open in various depths of pink with an unusual russet or tan glow to the inner petals. It then fades out through pink, lavender and towards white.

The depth of this and complexity of this colour never fails to draw comment from visitors to my garden. The shrub itself is tidy and compact, to 3 or 4 feet in height, with the flowers held in clusters above a dense mass of leaves. Clear away spent flowers and hips, and Distant Drums will bloom again reliably. I planted this one with a cool looking ninebark shrub (Physocarpus) called “Mahogany Magic” to give some immediate interest to the front garden bed.

Baron Girod de l’Ain

Sometimes it’s just about the flower. It’s pics like the one below that convinced me to try this rose, and I haven’t regretted it – although I have to admit that it’s taken time and pampering to get Baron Girod de l’Ain to perform well. My first mistake was to keep it in the pot too long. I tend to do that when I buy a new rose: I keep it in the greenhouse to make it easy to take cuttings and to keep an eye on how it’s doing.

Some roses actually do better in a pot in my greenhouse. For Baron Girod de l’Ain, it was the opposite. I took cuttings fine, but one by one, both my parent plant and each one propagated from it suffered from mildew and just general unhappiness.

At least in my growing situation, the solution was to get the rose into the garden. As soon as I did that, the rose perked up, and is now showing some of the vigour I read about. It still isn’t completely free of foliar troubles, but it’s healthy enough to throw some of those blooms I was looking for. And what blooms they are:

It’s hard to think that there could be a more perfect bloom . The color and form and beautiful, but it’s the wavy white edges that make this flower stand out. The rose is also nicely scented.

As mentioned, this rose has not done very well for me in pots. I’ll try a few things – bigger pots, different soil, more water, less water, different fertilizer – but I suspect that this is just a rose that’s happier in the ground, preferably with some light afternoon shade. Not everyone will want to coax Baron Girod de l’Ain to happiness and good health, but for me the flower is worth every bit of effort.

Charles de Mills

This Gallica rose is old, but no one can say for certain how old it is. It has persisted in gardens since at least the 1800’s and is often listed as a favorite rose of people who love the form and scent of old garden roses.

You really have to give it to the breeders of these old garden roses, they found a way to pack a whole lot of petals into a single bloom. So many petals, in fact, that they tend to swirl together towards the centre, a bloom form they call “quartered”. This one has a green eye in the middle that you can see when the blooms aren’t too tight.

The color varies, but is a complex mix between pink, red, and purple… fading towards the purple or mauve end of the color range. Charles de Mills is strongly scented as well.

The shrub can grow to 5 feet tall and wide, and because it’s a gallica rose, it tends to sucker, creating its own little thicket. Not unmanageable, but I’d be careful siting it near less competitive garden companions. In any case, during the spring bloom (as this rose only blooms once in a year) it’s hard to argue that any other plant should share its space.

Spring tidy and fertilizing

In the succession of flowering times for garden shrubs, the Forsythia comes early, and perhaps because it’s such a bright (or even objectionable, depending on who you ask) shade of yellow, rose growers use it as a reminder to get out there and prune their roses. If you lack a Forsythia, you definitely use the more attractive red-flowering currant here in the Lower Mainland, and it wouldn’t much change your timing. I snapped a picture of my inherited Forsythia this week… and as you can see, I’ll never miss pruning time:

The red/pink flowers in the foreground are quince (Cydonia), another shrub you could use to get nearly the same timing – it’s probably a week behind in my garden.

The reason many rose gardeners wait until this part of spring is that it coincides with roses being ready to break dormancy. By this time, winter kill on the canes (evidenced by black tissue higher up the extremities of your roses) will be apparent, and you will probably be able to see some of the buds swelling.

How to prune them? It depends on the rose, and it depends on what you want. This is your first chance of the season to influence your rose. Cutting harder usually means that the rose will respond with a number of strong shoots from the base, and will result in more flowers this season. A lighter prune allows the rose to grow and harden more canes, and if done properly, will allow some varieties of roses to form into a better garden shrub over the long term.

You can try to use this spring pruning and fertilizing to keep your roses a preferred size in your garden, but your influence is limited. I’ll put it this way: you’ll never make a small rose grow like a large rose by fertilizing, and you’ll never make a large rose grow like a small rose with pruning.

No matter your goals, it’s good to cut out dead, diseased and congested growth. And because roses are heavy feeders, they’ll respond well to a top dress of fertilizer or compost. A moderate amount of pruning and fertilizing will always leave your roses better off, and so I don’t get too hung up on the details… not even which other plants are blooming at the time!

Rosa spinosissima

This tough little species rose has the honor of being the first species in my greenhouse this year to put in a full flush of flowers. Sure, there’s the odd rose that has thrown a flower bud or two, but the Scotch Briar beats them out by filling its branches with flowers and buds. Here it is:

This rose, like many others that have been cultivated for centuries in gardens, has accumulated a few names: Pimpernell Rose, Scots Rose, Burnet Rose amongst others. (See more on rose naming here)

As I grow more roses, I learn to appreciate them for their differences. Unlike the red, soft, fleshy new leaves of a Hybrid Tea, the Scotch Briar grows tiny dark green leaves with 7 to 9 leaflets with finely cut edges, giving it a very different texture in the garden. The stems are dark brown, and the hips, when they set, are a very attractive and distinctive flat black.

Low growing, disease resistant, and drought tolerant, the Scotch Briar is very much a landscaper’s shrub. No wonder its genes have been used in such garden classics as Stanwell Perpetual, and in the breeding of hardy roses like the ones bred by Agriculture Canada

Proliferation!

Hey… this is kinda cool.

It’s late March, so it’s not completely unexpected that ‘Sophie’s Perpetual’ is beginning to bud up. It’s usually my first rose to do so. I saw ‘Scarlet Moss’ racing to keep up this year, but then Sophie did this:

Freaky. When I looked this one up, it seems it’s a deformity called “proliferation”. The green growth inside of the flower makes it look like the plant wants to grow another flower bud inside the first. It’s pretty interesting looking in this case because ‘Sophie’s Perpetual’ has such long sepals that they really jut out from the flower bud.

Sometimes roses do funny things. Last year I found ‘Caramba’ with a whole bunch of buds that looked like they’d had the ends bitten off. At first I thought that a rabbit had done exactly that, but closer inspection showed that the rose wasn’t chewed. It was like the flower had just stopped short of growing full petals. It’s a disorder called “bullheading”. I wish I’d taken some pictures of it. “Bullheading” is apparently related to cool temperatures, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the “proliferation” seen on ‘Sophie’s Perpetual’ were related to cool temperatures as well.

Anyhow, I thought I’d share this coolness. Now if I could only do this on purpose…

Overwintering roses in the Fraser Valley

If you grow roses in BC’s lower mainland, overall you’re pretty fortunate in your climate. Maybe not quite so fortunate as a rose grower in the highlands of Ecuador, but definitely lucky in comparison to a rose grower in Flin Flon, Manitoba. We benefit from a mild maritime climate, four (usually) distinct seasons, and we’re far enough north that our spring and summer days are extended – extra time to enjoy our gardens when they’re at their best! Take that, Ecuador!

As mild a climate as we Lower Mainlanders usually enjoy, we need to be aware of the occasional arctic outflow wind. These weather events are the most dangerous time of year for roses in your garden. Here’s a meteorological definition. If you work outdoors in the winter weather, you’ll notice when the wind begins coming in the wrong direction, from the east instead of the west or south. There’s a particular chill to that wind that will tell you something ugly is on the way.

Some of these arctic outflow storms can be vicious, in a relative way, of course. We’re accustomed to gentler weather conditions here. Maybe someone from Edmonton would scoff at this kind of storm, although I dare say that at the worst of times, when the arctic wind is whipping snow and ice sideways across the Matsqui and Sumas flats, even our brave Edmontonian would rather be inside.

They may happen only a few times a year, there are a few problems these arctic outflow events pose for our roses.

  1. They can come unexpectedly, any time in the winter or even late fall, before our garden plants have really decided to take winter seriously. If your roses haven’t “hardened off” for the cold season, they’re more susceptible to damage.
  2. Low humidity. Cold air holds less moisture than warm air, and wind sucks moisture out of plant tissues faster than still air. The result is that rose canes, especially younger longer shoots, will become dessicated by the wind. This is what causes those blackened shoots when the spring comes.
  3. In addition to sucking moisture faster, the winds also mean that any snow cover that would have been moderating the soil temperature is probably blowing right past the neighbor’s house. Times like this, a little bit of tree cover as a wind break is much appreciated.

I mentioned that roses need to “harden off” if they’re to avoid winter damage. For roses grown outdoors, you don’t have much control over this, except that you probably chose the roses in the first place, and some do a better job of it than others. I went out to the garden today (Nov 20, 2012) to see how the roses are doing. We’ve had a mild fall, and as expected, there are a few roses that are pushing it a bit, still putting up succulent new growth rather than going dormant.

In many roses, bright red stems and leaves mean new growth. ‘Anisley Dickson’ here is also throwing several new flower buds. It’s a bit of an issue with the repeat blooming genes that breeders select for… the rose will continue to put on new growth to support flowering, even when those flowers are unlikely to finish. For roses that don’t know when to quit blooming, an outflow wind can be devastating. The only control you have is to choose your roses varieties carefully.

‘Veilchenblau’ is a tough rambler rose. Even if it takes some damage through winter, it’ll put on a good show next year. In this picture, you can almost feel how soft this wood is. This is an example of a rose that’s so vigorous, it can go ahead and risk continued growth because it’s strong enough to thrive even if winter knocks it on its butt. What I’d rather see:

This is ‘Emily Grey’, a whichuraiana climber. This rose is in an exposed position along the back fence of our farm, and it looks like it takes the threat of winter seriously. Remember I wrote earlier that the color red in rose stems can indicate new, soft growth. That’s not the case here – this rose variety has wood that matures to this handsome mahogany color. Notice the buds are tight at each node, and ‘Emily Grey’ has even dropped it’s leaves.

Not all roses will drop leaves before the winter. Here’s one that has fully hardened, but is still holding onto its foliage:

You’ll have to take my word on it that the stem this specimen of ‘Complicata’ is completely hardened off. I show this to emphasize that the leaves don’t need to drop for a rose to be ready. The firmness (maturity) of the wood is what counts. Don’t be tempted to strip the leaves from your roses. It’s not only unnecessary, but probably does more harm than good by depriving the rose of the chance to finish the season in an orderly manner. When the leaves drop naturally, the attachment point is protected. Human hands pulling off leaves may cause injury, and give disease organisms a nice opportunity to get in.

So what do you have control over?

  • Your choice of roses. Hybrid teas are some of the tenderest varieties, and many gardeners in the rest of Canada don’t even attempt them. Look up the rose’s profile on helpmefind.com and look for the climate zone of hardiness. Most of the lower mainland is comfortably in zone 7 or 8, but you may want to choose a rose that’s good to zone 5 or 6 if you have an exposed site.
  • Location within the garden. You’ll have trees, shrubs, fences, hedges and buildings to take into account when you choose a spot for your roses. Remember that the worst of the outflow winds will be coming from the east, so place your tenderest roses to the west of something that can dampen the wind. I haven’t mentioned a whole lot about moisture in this posting, but if you’re choosing a site for a rose anyhow, be mindful of where there’s decent drainage. Even a hardy rose won’t stand a chance if it’s sitting in a puddle all winter.
  • Pruning and fertilizing. I tend to do most of my rose pruning in the early spring, when I can take out any canes that have been damaged by the winter. I keep on pruning most of the summer, shaping and tidying whenever I’m walking by a rose and have the pruners in my hand. Somewhere around August I ease off. It’s best to give this year’s growth some time to harden off. If you cut back too hard late in the season, the rose will likely respond by sending up more soft shoots. Likewise with fertilizer. A well-fed rose wants to grow and bloom, so I cut off the food supply in august as well.
  • Mulching. I put a 3 or 4 inch layer of oak leaves ( I just happen to have a fairly large oak tree on the driveway) at the base of my roses. It moderates the soil temperature. In the spring it can be chopped and worked into the soil to add organic matter. Most any loose mulch will do. I’ve seen recommendations for tender roses to build a wire mesh cage around the entire plant and cover with a foot of mulch. It might work, too, but my initial thought is that if you need to go this far, you’ve chosen the wrong rose.
  • Protect your containerized roses. It’s just a matter of choosing the best location you have available, and making it work. My cold frame greenhouse works pretty well, but not everyone has a greenhouse. A friend of mine (who has many more roses than I do) overwinters his container and tree roses in his garage, and it works beautifully. Do you have a back deck with some shelter from the wind? Can you collect them together under an outdoor stairway, or in the corner of the yard where they’ll get protection from the hedge on two sides? If you keep them outside where there will be wind, keep them bunched together so that they’ll provide some protection for each other. If you do find an indoor/greenhouse space, just be cautious about watering. Wait until the pot is relatively light and dry before watering fully. They’re not going through much water when they’re (semi) dormant, so don’t drown them.

All right. We’ve done what we can. Fingers crossed everyone?

Don’t stress. Roses are a lot tougher than they look.

Commandant Beaurepaire

This rose was bred at a time (the 1870’s) when the hybrid perpetual class was giving way to modern roses, the closely related hybrid tea that still dominates in rose gardens. ‘Commandant Beaurepaire’ was bred from a hybrid perpetual, but because the breeder wasn’t convinced the rose would bloom after the initial flush of lowers, it was classed as a gallica. This stunningly striped rose would be every bit worth a place in the garden (perhaps as an absolutely stunning hedge rose) even without reblooming, but when ‘Commandant’ was established in the trade, it was observed to be a (stingy) rebloomer, so the breeder reclassified it as a hybrid perpetual. He also renamed it, but I bought it as ‘Commandant Beaurepaire’, and I’ll keep it with that name.

Commandant BeaurepaireThis rose has large flowers, and they have a nice strong old rose fragrance to them. ‘Commandant Beaurepaire’ grows to a dense shrub to about 4 feet tall and wide. It sometimes takes on some powdery mildew, but doesn’t seem to mind it much.

Something about striped flowers can look a bit gaudy, but this rose combines a lighter and darker pink together, with some darker (purplish) and lighter (whitish) splashes… and it works beautifully. When in bloom, it’s one rose I always get comments about.

Complicata

The simplicity of this rose makes me think that it’s close to a species rose, but nobody knows for sure. It’s classed as a gallica, maybe for lack of better information. While most near-species roses are nicest grown as a free standing shrub, I think you’ll find it rewarding to give ‘Complicata’ something to climb. You’ll find nicer pictures out there, but here’s one I snapped in the garden (aphids and all!):Rosa 'Complicata'

The blooms are dark pink at the edges, white nearer the center, with prominent yellow stamens. What you can’t see here is how large they are! The only other single I know to compete on bloom size is ‘Altissimo‘. The large size of the flowers, their simple form, wonderful scent, and the fact that it blooms in one main flush of flowers makes this a stunning shrub (or better, a climber) in early Summer.

‘Complicata’ can grow to 10 feet with some support, or to a lax shrub of 6 feet or so. It also sets hips after blooming, for fall/winter interest.