Warning; Zealots Crossing

We've all seen them.  The bulging eyes moving frantically from side to side seeking an exit. Antic feet sliding sideways in a fruitless attempt to escape.  The dazed expressions that signify aural and mental overload.  Saliva pooling and drool overflowing as the higher cognitive functions are beaten down and dulled.  All of these and more the signs of a normal person trapped in a zealot's snare, unable to fly to freedom against the onrushing tide of words and enthusiasm.

Such was the lot of a few poor souls this week when I gave a Tuesday Talk at the K-State Rose Garden sponsored by The Friends of the KSU Gardens.  I'd been tapped several months ago to talk about the Garden and rose history in general during a walk around the rose garden and my anticipation had built up to the boiling point, but at last the scheduled time had arrived.  A half-hour came and went in an instant as I poured forth a partially coherent stream of information about rose classes and the AARS and the Gamble Fragrance Award and rose breeders and anti-Knock-Out-ism.  No one actually ran from the venue, and no children were permanently scarred by the lecture, but I'm concerned that several attendees will require some recovery time before they can again look at a rose as a simple lovely flower.

Zealots and fanatics can both be defined as being "marked by excessive enthusiasm and often intense uncritical devotion".  Synonyms for the words include "rabid", "bigoted," "phrenetic," and "mad."  Winston Churchill is quoted as saying "A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject."  All right, I hear all that, but I still don't understand why zealotry is seen as a bad thing.

I put to you that little progress would be made in the World without a zealot or three or four challenging The Man. Yes, the world might be a calmer place and there might be fewer wars, but without a little irrational enthusiasm, little gardening would be done.  Who among us would garden if we didn't conveniently forget annually that every year the quail would come to eat the corn before it sprouted, that a late frost would nip the first tomatoes we put out, and that a drought in August will always cause us to carry water daily for the pumpkins?  And if some fanatic doesn't pick up the torch of rose snobbery and defend the Old Garden Roses, who among us will stand to speak out against scentless and bland 'Knock Out'?  

Somewhere out there, I hope I planted a seed at the lecture.  A seed that will grow and cause someone to shun the Big Box Stores and their 'Knock Out's in favor of a real rose.  Perhaps an English/Austin hybrid, or a mail-order Gallica, or a hard-won Griffith Buck-bred 'EarthSong' or an EarthKind-recognized rose?  A rose worthy of the name rather than just another colored flowering shrub.  Such incremental changes are the lifeblood of a zealot and I'm proud to be so labeled if I can cause yet another 'Knock Out' to dry up on the shelf, unpurchased.  And, somewhere along the way, provide a little aid and comfort to the Friends of the KSU Gardens.   

(Author's note;  The picture above is of the "Rose" statue in front of the KSU Rose Garden, surrounded, ironically in light of this blog entry, by 'Livin Easy' roses).

Ha! Caught'em!

Finally, my game camera has captured its first infrared photos of unauthorized nocturnal garden visitors (as opposed to the 300-odd candid pictures of ProfessorRoush puttering in his own garden).  It has gone over a month without catching of a single critter since I placed it into the garden, so I was thinking about abandoning all hope or at least preparing to move it yet again, but suddenly there they were.

Thankfully, I have not documented evidence of the existence of Bigfoot in my garden, but I have captured two separate creatures on two separate nights.  One of them, wandering out of the garden after a presumed late night snack at 3:05 a.m. on 5/22/12, is obviously a deer, or more accurately, a doe. This same doe was likely also the cause of a hollyhock eaten back to nubbins sometime on 5/18/12, but that is the only deer-like damage I have detected recently.  With the continuation of last-year's lack of rain here, you can forget about footprints as collaborative evidence of garden raiding parties.

Okay, I've got a deer, but what is this other thing, which visited on 5/14/12 at 10:17 p.m.?  Much lower to the ground (I'd estimate it at about 1 feet tall and maybe 2 feet long), and with erect ears visible in two pictures?  I'd think coyote, but the hindquarters seem too plump and low-slung.  That is the butt of a pig, not a coyote and the coyote would carry its head higher.  Raccoon? I can't see the tail that I'd expect there and it probably wouldn't have the ears.  Bobcat?  That would be an incredible find, and, again, the hindquarters look wrong. Rabbit?  It would be a big one and where is the fluffy tail?  A previously undescribed prairie mammal or an alien creature from another world?  That would indeed "be wondrous strange!"  To mangle and turn Hamlet's statement into a question, are there really "more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy?"  In this case, I sincerely doubt it.

On the bright side, I now know three sure things that I didn't know yesterday.  First, I've got a deer that returns repeatedly to the green larder of my garden.  Second, there is another something prowling around at night that probably isn't there just to sample the greenery.  Third, both of these creatures are lazy and bold since they are taking the mown paths from my garden down into the prairie rather than coming and going through the taller, denser grass. 

Maybe I'd better rescind their invitations and quit mowing the paths?.

Red Moss

'Red Moss'

I don't know why, but I somehow associate the name 'Red Moss' with the ominous feeling of doom evoked by Poe's The Masque of the Red Death,  I suppose that association only occurs because of the similar sounds of the respective name of the rose and title of the short story, but it is unsettling nonetheless.  And the feeling is blatently false, because 'Red Moss' is a troublefree and dependable rose in Kansas.  At 8.8, it also has one of the highest merit ratings by the ARS for Old Garden Roses, testifying to its good growth in most climates.

'Red Moss' or 'Henri Martin'

'Red Moss' is more accurately known to rose lovers far and wide as 'Henri Martin', an 1862 breeding by Jean Laffay.  This once-blooming rose was named for the French historian involved in the creation of the Statue of Liberty, although most who know 'Henri Martin', the rose, wouldn't know the significance of the name.  Like most of the moss roses, it has a strong fragrance and resembles a semi-double Gallica rose in bush form, foliage and flower, except for the mossy buds.  I have two 'Henri Martin', both of the same age, one about three feet tall and wide and the other, interspersed with a pair of sun-blocking taller roses, is taller, approximately four feet in height.  This rose sprawls a bit on its own, so smaller plants might be smothered within its reach if the gardener allows such a travesty.




Moss roses, for the uninitiated, have mossy-looking growths on the sepals of the buds and calyx.  These are actually a glandular mutation of the prickles and oil glands, and the moss, when brushed, adds a balsam or piny scent to the rose fragrance. All moss roses have two sepals with moss, then one without, one with, and the last of five without.  True moss roses are believed to be descendents of a sport of  a centifolia rose and first appeared around 1700.  They were bred sporadically by rosarians through the 1800's and into the current century, with several fascinating and more recent introductions by the late Ralph Moore.

I grow three moss roses, 'Red Moss', Chateau de Napoleon, and 'Old Pink Moss', the latter likely being the original centrifolia sport.  All are bone hardy in the Kansas climate and survive drought and wind without failing.  Blackspot is nonexistent on the old moss roses, however the 'Old Pink Moss' in the K-State University garden, placed in a fairly stagnant area in terms of air flow, is prone to a little mildew now and then.  If I have a complaint about 'Red Moss', it would be that the bush is sparse, with overly flexible canes and no real mass of foliage.  The flowers, however, make up for that failing as does the complete lack of need for additional care while the season progresses.  I should also point out to the unsuspecting that the color or 'Henri Martin' resembles the Redoute engraving or a "red" Gallica, really a rose-red rather than the bright red displayed by many internet pictures of it.