I have a very fragrant old fashioned white rose which I assume is a musk rose. It's from a rooted cutting Mom gave me, and here's the rose's story.
When my maternal grandfather was a little fellow of about four years old, his mother came home from a neighbor's house with a little sprig of a rose bush. (Grandpa was born in 1907.) With care, she planted it in the yard with strict instruction, "Don't y'all bother my little rose, now." Grandpa said he could remember his mother smiling about that little rose. The rose flourished, and the beauty and fragrance has been appreciated for many years. Mom successfully made cuttings and shared them. It's a delight to have a connection with Grandpa and Greatgrandma's memory with this rose.
This year I put a few wood ashes around my rose bush to raise the pH a little since I have been mulching with pine straw. I add compost once or twice a year as well. Here is what my rose looked like nine days ago.
(Incidentally, Grandpa was born on May 19; this is a good day for this post.)
I used a rose from this bush to make a boutonniere for my son Saturday night (prom). It did not hold up well, but it was pretty while it lasted.
If I haven't recalled the details exactly, I'd be appreciative of corrections from any family members who may remember the story. Thanks.
Take time to smell the roses!
Love the rose story, Grandpa's BD on down to the boutonniere. Now that was a neat touch.
ReplyDeleteI do like to take time to actually smell the physical rose...