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.

Hunter Hype

There lies a rose within my chest

A rose, crimson red and beating

In summer's heat it knows no rest

Steadfast 'Hunter', never fleeting.

I grow it, yet it stabs my hand

with prickles, fearsome sharp and many

Rugose the leaves, of health and grand

A simple rose, yet good as any

'Hunter'

The sparkling rose referred to in this miserable rhyme, of course, is the 1961 introduction by Mattock in the United Kingdom.  'Hunter' (sometimes called 'The Hunter') is a cross of the tetraploid orange-red floribunda 'Independence', and the light pink diploid cross of R. arvensis and R. rugosa known as R. paulii, or simply just as 'Paulii'.  'Hunter' boasts double-petalled bright red flowers of long-lasting color, fading at last to a deeper red-purple before falling from the bush.  He stands in the middle of my front house bed, about 4 foot tall, and in a rare winter has had a little bit of cane dieback, but the gorgeous red flower is worth taking that chance.  I fell in love with the idea of this rose after being introduced to it by Suzy Verrier in her 1999 text Rosa Rugosa.

Published and posted information varies widely on this rose and I'll add in my personal observations.  First and foremost, let me state that I've had this rose almost a decade and it took until this year to convince me that it really was capable of an exceptional display.  Some sources state that it lacks vigor, and for me it indeed struggled for several years, surrounded by Monarda and other perennials, and it seems to have suddenly decided to just grow over them and live in the sunshine.  Since then, the past three or four years, it has added bulk and thick canes, spreading out without growing taller.  Some references say the rose is prone to blackspot, and while I do see some yellowing and loss of the lower foliage regularly, I haven't seen the typical fungal appearance and I don't spray my 'Hunter'.   The fragrance is listed from "mild" to "strong," but I would agree with a "mild" rating.  Bloom repeat is sporadic throughout the summer, with three to four flushes over the season that never reach the bounty of the original flush.  

If you plan to grow this rose, be aware that it retains the thorny genes of the Rugosas and that this is one of the most wicked roses I grow in that regard. My 'Hunter' is well-placed, in the center of the bed, to prevent ruining trousers.  And skin.  And perhaps marriages.

Butterfly Addendum

Buckeye butterfly

Yumpin Yimminy, so many pictures, so little organization!  Yesterday, during my blog titled "Butterflies Are Free", I somehow missed these two butterflies in the picture files from the same day, bringing my one day total of identified butterflies to ten.

How could I have missed the Buckeye butterfly?  Bright orange and with all those blue eyes staring at me.  This one was sneaking an early sample of Achillea 'Moonshine'. 

Cabbage butterfly

It was probably easy, on the other hand, to miss the Cabbage White butterful, hidden among the Mockorange blossoms.  Looks a little bedraggled as well. 


Sorry, everyone, I'm appropriately remorseful at providing incomplete information yesterday.  Too many butterflies to count!