Summer Gardeners
OUR SPEAKER, MARGARET WADDY, gave us a highly entertaining talk "about
roses"at our May meeting. It was really a glorious ramble about people,
places and plants, coming as it did from a horticulturist who in a previous
life had studied classical languages and plant science.
Roses are a native only of the northern hemisphere and have evolved over the millennia. They are still a fairly primitive plant, with lots of stamens and pollen, but have developed what we so love - their colour and scent.
The Romans and the Greeks grew roses, and they came back to this country in the 13th and 14th century with soldiers who had been fighting in the crusades. During the War of the Roses, of course these were the emblems - the Rose Alba for York, and Damisina (Damascena? Oh, the perils of hand-written copy - Rosa gallica officinalis according to Wiki. Eds) f or Lancashire. In the 13th century, the Chinese developed repeat and long-flowering roses.
By the 19th Century, they were being bred with great enthusiasm in both America and France, where the Empress Josephine greatly encouraged a nursery man called Noisette to crossbreed plants, which resulted in the first yellow rose, Soleil d'Or.
Breeders have continued to produce more and more varieties - especially hybrid t4eas in the late half of the 20th century.
The fashion once again however is for the old-fashioned roses, bred by growers like David Asten. They are disease resistant, delicate, and gently coloured.
Hatfield house has a lovely rose garden, but our speaker recommends Motisfont - an RHS garden in Hampshire where they hold the National Collection of old-fashioned roses. The perfume in this garden (where smoking is forbidden!) is unbelievable.
And for June..
We had a lovely evening visit to the garden of Roy and Angela Nunn of
Cambridge. They specialise in growing and breeding Clematis. Which were
climbing and rambling all over their 400 foot of fence. Many were of course in
full flower, joined by innumerable varieties of Alstromena, geraniums and
roses.
As we drank our coffee, the scent of philadelphus and a thrush's evening song filled the air: two little frogs were peeping out of their pond and looked as appreciative as we all felt.