"perfection in a punchy pale pink"*

(*NOT my own words, so just back off, Bill.)

Our pal Bookish Gardener Chan is rose-blogging today. I agree with her that there is a particular image associated with rose gardening that is unparalleled by any other flower that immediately comes to mind. On the other hand, I'm not sure I'd want to be tagged with that image - I get enough grief 'round here for my ordinary perennials as it is.

As a matter of fact, I've only got one rose at the moment - an Improved Blaze, a climbing rose with lots of large, dark red flowers. I originally planted it in front of the garden fence, but it didn't seem to like it there. Last fall, I dug it up and moved it to a trellis by the front door. It seems quite happy now, standing a little under six feet at the moment and flowering pretty vigorously. Fortunately, the deer haven't been at it yet, although they hit the low hydrangea nearby. My only concern is that later on in the summer when the front of the house gets a bit more light, it might prove a bit too hot for the rose. We'll see.

Meanwhile, Dad is storing a number of extra roses of various sorts in gallon pots for me at the moment that I'll pick up when we go to visit in August. (I may have to leave a Llama-ette or two with the 'rents in order to fit the plants in the car. The 'rents think I'm joking about this.) I plan to bring them back and intersperse them among my peonies. But under no circumstances whatsoever will I start speaking French to them.