Mme Plantier, I presume?

'Madame Plantier'

Just because I feel guilty about trashing a world-treasured Alba rose in my last rose post, I'll show you an Alba rose that I really wish I'd planted years ago.  My one-year-old Madame Plantier bloomed for the first time this year and I am most definitely impressed by the young maiden.

Unlike my spoiled 'Maiden's Blush', 'Madame Plantier' gave me quite a display this year, young though she was.  She was covered from head to toe for three weeks with 3 inch blush-white blooms, and every one of them just as perfect as the picture to the right.  No blight, no browning buds, no thrip damage.   I think "scrumptious" describes this rose best.  Somewhere, in my reading, I had gained an impression of  'Madame Plantier' as being less than a star, so I had avoided her until recently. What a mistake that was, because a star she is!

'Madame Plantier' is an 1835 Alba bred by Plantier of France.  Well, I think she's an Alba.  Some references list her as a cross of Rosa alba and Rosa moschata, while others list her as a Damask rose, the result of a cross of R. damascena and R. moschata.  Regardless of the actual heritage, the clustered blooms lose their blush as they age, much like a young lady growing into womanly maturity, and they end up flat with a nice button eye.  The bush is almost thornless, completely hardy without protection here, and completely blackspot and fungus free so far.  I've read that she's going to get much bigger, and the canes will stay flexible, so I've provided her lots of room for her anticipated 8 by 8 foot size and drooping arms. What a spectacle that will be!

While researching this rose, I stumbled upon a reference that characterized the scent of 24 Old Garden Roses, and so I can report that Madame Plantier contains 31.44% 2-phenyl-ethanol, 28.11% benzyl alcohol, 21% hydrocarbons, 8.63% geraniol, 5.91 % nerol, and trace amounts of 20 other organic compounds.  Do we really believe that we can take the essence of a rose and distill it to a few carboniferous chemicals?  Blasphemous! This formula is TMI (too much information) and reveals too much of the soul of this beautiful rose, and so I will now attempt to forget I ever heard it.  There are none so cynical as a rosarian who has seen a favored rose stripped of its mystery.

Chipping Cheerfully

Just for those who were wondering how the Chipping Sparrow eggs were doing, I'm happy to report that the babies have hatched and are growing just fine.  Momma Chipping Sparrow, however, looks a bit harried and tense as she tries to keep these hungry little critters fed.

Lately, watching these little bits of life develop, it strikes me that there is nothing quite so life-affirming as watching a nest of baby birds go from egg to fledgling.

Now You See It (or not)

Eastern Meadlow lark nest, exposed

I got another surprise Sunday morning as I was watering a fairly new Acer rubrum 'Autumn Flame' to the west of the house, in an area that I used to mow but have left "long" these past two years.   Practically at my feet, a brown streak exploded and then quickly disappeared into the eight-inch-tall grass about 25 feet away.  Looking carefully near my feet, I found another bird nest filled with 5 brown-speckled eggs.  Using some local forbs as references, I mentally marked the location.

I returned about an hour later to photograph the nest and spent about 25 minutes looking for it, even knowing it was within a 5 foot square area, and I located it only after I got on my hands and knees and slowly combed the brush to find it.

 Can you find the nest?


How about now?  It's like one of those "Where's Waldo?" games isn't it?  Imagine me moving gingerly around the area, expecting every minute to hear a crunch as I accidentally ruin the nest.

Well, I'll make it easy, the nest is in the exact center of the photo below.  In the first photo above, it's in the right third quadrant at the center line, and in the second picture it's at the upper left.  Almost impossible to find even from a few feet up or away.

This is an Eastern Meadowlark (Sturnella magna) nest and although it is laying exposed on the ground for lumbering animals to step on or slithering snakes to seize on, I've got to give the mother Meadowlark extra credit points for care.  This is a much better camouflaged and constructed nest than the matted patches of grass the Killdeer start their families in.  I guess I'm being a little judgemental here, but, hey, I know a dotting mother when I see one.

I won't go looking for this one again because I'm afraid of damaging the brood, which takes about 2 weeks to hatch and another 2 weeks to empty.  And my own inability to avoid a nest that I KNOW is there makes me wonder how these birds ever evolved to ground-nest in an area filled in recent centuries by bison herds and in millennia past by larger herbivores including primeval horses, rhinos, and mastodons.  I would have predicted that the first stupid bird to drop an egg on the prairie would have seen its eggs quickly crushed and its gene pool darwinized to extinction.  Timing the movement of the herds, perhaps?  Sheer numbers?   Certainly. there weren't many other choices for nesting sites, since there were few trees on that virgin prairie.

But this nest does make me even more happy that I let the grasses grow in this area over the objections of Mrs. ProfessorRoush.  Aside from the decreased mowing time and gasoline usage, I'm now seeing the beginnings of the environmental riches that the native prairie can provide.

Disappointing Maiden

Warning: For those Old Garden Rose fans who just can't stand a bad review on any rose born prior to 1867, it might be best for your mental health if you stop reading NOW. 

'Maiden's Blush' at best, but a little balled up.

Okay, if you're still reading by this time, I'm going to assume that you either relish hearing about the deficiencies of a former queen of the garden, or at least that you've braced for the worst.

I confess that I was once in love with the venerated Alba 'Maiden's Blush', but the veils of infatuation have been lifted from my sight over time and she has fallen from grace.  Here in the Kansas climate, years of evidence has convinced me that she has turned out to be a faithless lass, cool and demure and virtuous in a rare year, but more commonly crumpled and nasty and worn. 

The soiled dove

Many readers here are likely familiar with Michael Pollan's Second Nature, and what he has to say about his experiences with Old Garden Roses and 'Maiden's Blush' in particular.  Michael waxed so eloquent, and marginally pornographic, about 'Maiden's Blush' that she was impossible for me to resist.  I've had her in my garden about 11 years and she is now a massive shrub in my beds, around 6 feet tall and broad.  In the early years of the 21st century, I had some good times with her, even including her in my own book, Garden Musings, as the seventh in a group of my ten favorite roses (pages 59-60).  But, over time, I've come to realize that, at best, a lot of her blossoms will be damaged by a little botrytis blight, and at worst, many of them turn brown and don't open at all.  Don't get me wrong, I treasure the exquisiteness of the occasional perfect blossom;  the creamy petals, blushed with pink in colder years, opening to a delicate picture of coyness.  But I would estimate only 10% of her blooms make it to that perfection.  The rest, well, let us just say that a soiled dove still has its beauty, if can you look past the blemishes.   Every year, I look at the buds coming on and think "wow, 'Maiden's Blush' is going to have a great year."  And then, even in dry years, a rain and a little cold weather comes at the wrong time during her budding and she simply molds at the edges.  To be fair, I think the same thing happens to many of my Albas, like, for instance 'Leda', but that's a story for another time.

Bush form of 'Maiden's Blush' at peak bloom 2012

When she's good, this ancient rose (prior to 1400) is very good.  Intensively fragrant, very double, and solidly hardy in Kansas, she doesn't suffer from blackspot or mildew in the southern exposure I've given her.  The bush is rangy, with occasional bare legs, and not very thorny, so there are both positive and negative aspects to her overall form.  She goes by many names, this one, so don't be confused if you see her listed as 'Great Maiden's Blush', 'Cuisse de Nymphe' (translates to "thigh of nymph"), 'Incarnata', 'La Virginale' or others.

I'm going to keep her as a part of my own garden because I simply can't give up those times when she is warm and friendly and gives me her all.  But I can no longer recommend to my fellow Kansans that she be allowed to trifle with the affections of any except the most dedicated rose fanatics.