Yes, roses at last, rain or shine. Rather a lot of them actually.
This is a climber called Sombreuil, which is said something like Sohm-BRU-ee, named in 1850 for a young French woman who saved her father from the guillotine by drinking a goblet of blood, or maybe it was red wine but blood is the version that made her famous. Still, it’s a white rose named for her, a moderate climber, growing 8 to 12 feet tall (that would be 2.4384 to 3.6576 meters, Alberto) and intensely fragrant.
After growing for ten years where I initially planted it, this rose become engulfed in the shade of its birch-tree neighbors and had to be moved. There was a huge woody trunk and a root that went on into the center of the planet but I kind of ripped it out with just a few little upper roots attached. She is now growing on cheerfully in her new sunny location which just supports my theory that roses are almost impossible to kill.
The next image is Lady of the Mist, of the sort marketed as “English Legend” roses. It has interesting color and intense fragrance but really I wish they would let me name the roses.
Next below is ‘Madame Hardy’ or, if you are on a first-name basis, Félicité Hardy’–
I moved this rose a couple years ago. It woke up in a new neighborhood that spring but pretended not to notice. Madame Hardy is an old Damask rose, or Damask cross, bred in France in 1835, or 1856, or 1895. You see I’ve looked for information but the result was like a paper target full of buckshot instead of one with just one nice definitive hole in the middle…
I can however personally testify that the bloom is very fragrant, has just a shadow of pink in the white and lots of petals around a tiny green button.
I buy roses from an Oregon nursery called Heirloom Roses. They grow all their plants from ungrafted cuttings. (There are some roses that I can grow that way myself.)
Here is the roly-poly, fabulously fragrant (David Austin) rose, Jude the Obscure.
I used to read Thomas Hardy’s novels (no relation to Madame Hardy above as far as I know), and I think this is a much too fun and happy rose to be named for the bleak story of Jude. But in the next image he is showing the kind of bad judgement that we see in the novel as he consorts with that questionable Bouncing Bess (Saponaria officinalis).
Below is the short rose Mary Magdalene. (Look closely to see the halo.)
And here is a moss rose, one my mother gave me from her garden years ago.
There are too many roses since the deer haven’t broken in to eat any. I will be kind and stop with one more, which I believe is Sharifa Asma, another dramatic David Austin rose.
So pretty and romantic…
…and it seems to me that the name, Sharifa Asma, kind of suggests a tent in the desert.
Women Who Run With Delphiniums 
Oh, I loved this tour of your roses. And I, too, think roses are much tougher than most people think. Love that image of your moss rose.
Hi Holley
Yes roses are tough or else mine wouldn’t survive.
The odd furry moss roses are at least unique and old-fashioned.
When I see your roses, I wistfully think I ought to pay more attention to mine. But I don’t, so I’ll just have to enjoy yours. I see Mlle de Sombreuil was born Jeanne Jacques Marie Anne Françoise de Virot – which is a good name for a girl, but a bit long for a rose. While not wishing to correct your excellent French, it’s probably true that the pronunciation is closer to Som -BROI – ee (with the last syllable barely voiced). BTW I’m a little perturbed by your desert fantasy…
Hi Kininvie
I spent quite a while on the French key, knowing you would be on instant alert. I found an assortment of suggestions online, including Sohm-BRURH-ee but I didn’t see Som-BROI-ee. I do like your noting the soft last syllable. And since I studied French for about a month once and I expect you’ve had years I will totally defer.
What you call my ‘desert fantasy’ is simply a discussion of rose words and associations, quite cerebral–although Valentino was pretty cool.
I don’t know, Linnie – first the palm flower and now Valentino bending over a swooning girl…..Maybe you should get out more? Go visit Chicago? BTW I meant to say that moss rose is fantastic. Should I have one? Is it a lot of trouble?
I’ve never longed for Chicago, Piet or no.
Oh yes Kininvie you too need a moss rose. They thrive on neglect, rain and cold weather, bursting into flower with the first summer sun–easy peasy. [Whisper: But I’ve heard, you know, around, that moss roses are kind of risqué in their own way so do be careful.]
Your rose knowledge is just as impressive as the collection itself. I’ve never seen a moss rose. I’ll be needing one of those.
In truth I know very little about roses. Mostly the deer eat the blooms so I tend to think of the bushes as sticks with leaves. But this year has been amazing and suddenly it seems like there are a lot of these plants in my garden.
I hope you do get a moss rose Kate–the one I have is very sweet scented and I enjoy it quite a lot.
There certainly are roses! Unlike some others, I never doubted you for a moment, Linnie. And very beautiful they are, too.
Thanks Lyn– I appreciate your confidence. Your comment just came up– I like thinking of you, there at your computer in Australia right this minute!
I must admit I feel a little disappointed. You didn’t show Tuscany (Superb?) at all but you put it on you header. I love that rose, I hope to see it in one of your next post about your roses! About Sombreuil I think Mr. K is right about pronunciation but the last L should be pronounced too (in french pronunciation you only cut the DePoSiT consonants at the end).
I like doing a little research about the history of old roses too, it kind of give a stronger identity to them and helps me remember their names easier.
Love the jude+saponaria wedding, even though I guess that saponaria is a kind of weed around there? Very pretty though.
Why anyone commented on Rodolfo Maxentino?
Hi Alberto
I am sad to have disappointed you. So I will tell you a secret: as of today I plan a second rose post, soon, and I will discuss Tuscany as well as other roses including the outcome of the pillar rose pruning you may recall from last winter.
I guess DePoSiT is a memory trick to recall the French silent end consonants. I will hope Kininvie responds because I certainly don’t know.
Saponaria isn’t a weed here, and doesn’t self-seed. I like it and start a few every spring.
Is Rodolfo Maxentino the same as Rudolf Valentino? Kininvie DID comment about the image: it worried him.
Alberto’s right – you need just a tiny hint of that final l. But really Linnie, you could have hardly have found a French name less possible to reproduce in English syllables. I could give you a version in the phonetic alphabet, but I don’t know how. Do you know the French word ‘oeil’ – meaning eye? The end of Sombreuil is similar to that.
I appreciate your pronunciation tips Kininvie. I love French and just wish I studied it properly in school– instead of German. I did learn a great deal about English from German, but French is like music, and when I visited there it felt a lot like going home.
I thought Valentino used an italian name as well as here, Rodolfo indeed. Maxentino is his dog version (in the first picture!). How couldn’t you get it? Double disappointment!
It amazes me that you can order rose roots to be sent by post in the winter and they flower beautifully a few months later.
I would guess from your rose collection that you are a hopeless romantic.
…combined with the Valentino pic, b-a-g, I guess you are right!
Well yes Valentino. I have to quit giving you such easy hints.
Are there unromantic roses? Or flower gardens?
I have ordered roses by mail before, but I can drive to Heirloom Roses and buy the plants there. They have great gardens where you can see all the varieties blooming in summer.
I guess rosa chinensis viridiflora is all but romantic, unless you mean romanticism as decay or alienation. I think almost all flowers could or couldn’t be romantic, it depends on the way you arrange them. Think of them like colourful and vulgarly exposed sexual organs (which is what they are) and tell me what’s romantic in that…
The romantic Italian gardener doth protest too much, methinks.
OOF!
It’s romantic if it is diguised – as flowers so artfully are – but then exposed in the works of Georgia O’keefe, which you can view here:
http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=gerogia+okeefe+artwork&qs=AS&sk=AS2&FORM=QBIR&pq=gerogia%20okee&sc=5-12&sp=3&qs=AS&sk=AS2
Hi Spectra
You are so right.
And Georgia O’keefe was very brave indeed.
I never knew why moss roses had that name but it is obvious from the photo. I think they look very elegant.
Hi Carolyn
I am surprised that moss roses seem foreign to so many people. It seems they are often the model for silk roses and in prints but I guess they are more rare in the real world.
All your roses have such historically extravagant names, if that makes sense. I mean, come on. ‘Lady of the Mist’? 🙂 And, they all look wonderful. This spring’s rains have really given the bushes that extra zip they need to make them so pretty. I don’t have any moss roses. Great photo. And of course Max looks incredibly handsome with his floral lapel.
Hi Gracie
Yes I guess it’s a good year for roses in Oregon– everywhere I go there are amazing bushes loaded with blooms. Rose names tend to be sort of annoying, which may be why I have such trouble recalling them. I like ‘Peace’ — my idea of a good name choice!
I love all your roses!! I’ll take one of each!! Roses in my area are fighting black spot that didn’t die in our too warm winter. Such a frustrating, insipid little spot of yuck… Hopefully, yours will remain spot free. 🙂
We usually have tons of black spot. I don’t know what’s become of it this year but having it gone is a really good idea. I can never bring myself to execute a spray regime so this is lucky. Stay tuned for the rose sequel!
What a magnificent display of roses you have. Such beauty only comes from a rose….
Welcome Chris!
I mix the roses into beds with all the other plants. They are very happy this year, and also we’ve managed to keep the deer out, so it seems suddenly as if I have more roses than I used to, nice for me!
Much of what I grow is native and tends to be more green and less floral, so the roses are a colorful contrast.
I’ve never seen anything like the moss rose and the Madame Hardy is beautiful too. Everyone goes on about the Lady Banks rose here in Texas. If I was going to have a rose it might be that one because it is thorn-less which appeals to me. On an un-rose related note, my family is crazy. I really just stopped by here for some normalcy. Thank you very much.
Wow I just looked at google images of Lady Banks rose– looks like an instant immense yellow flowered wall! You will need to annex the cemetery maybe. And if you are coming HERE for normalcy my friend…well I am impressed by the level of crazy you must be dealing with.
“Undisciplined gardens” – I’d take that as a compliment. That’s pretty much my gardening style. I like to call it benign neglect. Or letting nature do her thing – and as plants have been around a lot longer than humans, I think nature is a better gardener. Of course, some plants do get out of control, and that’s where Edward Scissorhands comes in. A good way to get out some of the aggression that occasionally creeps in despite attempts to be a peaceful person…
Oh yes, definitely a compliment. She was talking about the maple tree, which volunteered in the middle of that ‘Tuscany’ rose, where it is still growing so nicely. Looks like you and I agree about not managing too much out there Sheila. Pruning is usually a good idea now and then although, contrary to my reputation, I often fail to get it accomplished.