Pushed Out of Paradise and Roses

I have gathered and sorted pictures of the roses from the end of October to today. From bud to glory to ‘the last rose of summer’ as the next buds develop. Four of these roses we inherited. As we laid out our new garden they were stranded half way down the driveway. Against a new concrete panel wall, they faced into the full force of the afternoon sun. My two legs of the grey watering system whined louder and louder. He extended the two beds between the garage and the front door, making space for these roses. Not so far to walk, and they make a gracious welcome home. Now they have recovered from transplanting, we can see what we have. Some beauties, mostly nameless!

Pushed Out of Paradise and Roses

There is no theme here. Simply what was surplus to requirements or needed cutting back elsewhere in the garden. For some mysterious reason these beds are the most lush in our garden. It is the afternoon sun side of the house, but the giant/Spanish reeds and our neighbour’s tree seem to throw the right amount of kind shade.

Anna's Red bed

'Anna's Red' is nameless

The first of our nameless roses is three plants of Anna’s Red. At the end of October there were lots of flowers and they keep coming. None today, but there are always buds. Now, that tall flowering stem has been cut back to match her sisters. The plant prefers to grow about knee high. Heady rich perfume.

Pushed Out of Paradise and Roses
looking from the garage towards the front door

Across the path are the other nameless varieties, with Black Prince (an old Cape rose), and Perfume Passion (one I chose myself).

Perfume Passion

Perfume Passion was chosen to be fragrant. I asked for a low bush for the corner, but she grows and grows – most of the flowers are kindly at grateful nose height.

'Anna's fuchsia' is nameless

A slender ethereal bush, with such deep pink flowers that they rest on red. Perhaps Schiaparelli pink? And nameless.

Black Prince
an old Cape rose

Black Prince came with his name. This is an old Cape rose courtesy of Gwen Fagan's book and Jack at SequoiaGardens. My heritage rose. A very tall and stately prince, but a scholar with his books, rather than the women’s rugby team Perfume Passion. As I imagine Bulgarian attar of roses might smell, dizzying.

'Anna's apricot' is nameless

This one was always thoughtful, but I watered and fed it. Now it has settled after transplanting, I am amazed and delighted by glorious blended peach and yellow flowers. Fading to a rich golden yellow.

These beds were planted in 2007, the roses added in 2009. November 2010.  

Looking from the front door
at Agapanthus and figs

We’ve had morning tea with my roses. As you head home, this is the path from the front door and out into the World Wide Web. My Agapanthus was a bud on Guy Fawkes Day, now I delight in my three commonorgarden flowers! And we have figs plumping up.

Pictures and words by Diana of  Elephant's Eye 

- wildlife gardening in Porterville, near Cape Town in South Africa

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