The saying “sub rosa” meaning “in secret” is thought to have originated in descriptions of pagan rites carried out in places especially sacred to The Goddess: obviously, under trees where roses grew.
I guess I should invite all the pagans I know to come over and enjoy mind-altering chemicals — Coffee, anyone? Tea? CHOCOLATE? — here in this obviously sacred space.
Tobey doesn’t actually work in the yard except to murder the odd shrew. She has more of a supervisory role. Her taste is impeccable.
Sitting out here watching the light come through the leaves. As the sun comes over the trees across the street, it lights up different details, different plants.
This is Peggy Martin, seen from the front porch, in a kind of DIY panorama
I have coveted these natives of the Pacific Northwest for many years, and now finally have planted some — insanely late, but I was a gambler with a Van Engelen gift card burning a hole in my pocket
I look forward to seeing them naturalize.
May 16, 2018. It’s ramping up for this blooming season. It’s before seven AM, so these blooms are not yet fully opened.
They’re semi double rather than double.
That sounds fairly scandalous! I’m leaving it as is.
We’ll see how far the clematis vine gets. It would take many of these to match this pink rose, which continues to get huger by leaps and bounds.
And it’s very hot, you have to stretch longer and longer to let the breeze cool your belly.
This everblooming sport of the North American native Rosa palustris gets better every year. It’s about six feet tall and six wide, a nice sphere of delicate foliage that stays full all season and is never without bloom.
It smells light, delicate, and heavenly. And it’s thornless.
I got mine from Antique Rose Emporium in Texas.
This is a once-bloomer I’ve seen a lot in the Bluegrass area. In the heat of summer it looks pretty scrawny, but it’s the first rose to bloom, and it looks spectacular when it does. Wicked sharp thorns.
It suckers heartily, and is dead easy to start by digging up one of the suckers. This one flourishes on a steep, dry slope.
Does anyone know what it is?