This week is one of my favorite weeks of the entire year. That’s not because there’s a special holiday. It isn’t my birthday, or anything else like that. But this is the week my roses and peonies are all at their peak.
The photo above shows my pride and joy—a rambler rose that in the short span of five years has completely covered an arbor over my patio. The rose has the un-euphonious name “Paul’s Himalayan Muskâ€, but it has a romantic beauty that far surpasses its prosaic name. I remember choosing it from the Wayside catalog largely because of the strong warning that was printed next to it: “May only be grown on the strongest of supports.†No flimsy little wire or split-wood trellises for this baby. It has easily clambered a good thirty feet from its roots and puts the patio into deep shade for most of the day. Despite this incredible vigor, the canes and shoots have a delicate look to them, and the blossoms have a light, delicious scent that is sweet without being at all overpowering. To sit beneath it on a sunny day, with tiny pink petals drifting down when stirred by a breeze, is sheer heaven.
I’m not quite sure what it was that appealed to me about that catalog phrase. I had an image in mind of lushness and excess. I liked the idea of the contrast between the tiny roses (each flower is only the size of a thumbnail) and a burly wooden arbor. I also liked the fact that this rose was an old one, dating back to the mid-1800s. I hoped that meant it would be a survivor, not requiring the constant feeding and spraying that so many hybrid tea roses require. A plant that required “the strongest of support†sounded like one that would be robust and bold.
You see, although I can appreciate the austere delights of Asian gardens or European parterre, my own style is quite different. Come to see me in early summer and you’ll find that my whole garden is an exercise in the “cram and stuff†method of planting. I love it when my plants tumble on top of one another and spill out into walkways and paths. My goal is to plant so closely that there’s no room for weeds to get started.
Plus, I tend to go whole hog when I like something. I happen to like roses and peonies a lot, so you’ll find them everywhere around my house. I wish more people would let their enthusiasms run away with them. I see lots of gardens and public plantings around that suffer from the “one of everything†problem, and I can’t tell you how many garden magazines I’ve seen that have careful, fussy planting diagrams made up of twenty-five different species. I can’t imagine ever following one of those diagrams, and I can’t believe I’d like the effect even if I did. Gardening shouldn’t be fussy. Be bold! Plant what you like. If you like irises, then use them everywhere. Three measly phlox plants won’t make anyone go “oooh!†But plant twenty phlox and you may find your garden stops traffic when they all bloom at once. Growing a garden with strong bones and bold effects is the key to the magic.
