Calling Docteur Jamain

'Souvenir du Docteur Jamain'

There are many, many new roses blooming in ProfessorRoush's garden and I am fairly giddy about most of my acquisitions from last year.  I have some exciting and fabulous roses blooming for the first time on this Kansas prairie and I'll feature them each as I gain more information about their hardiness and response to the Kansas climate.  A handful of the new roses have been disappointments as well, and I will, in turn, reveal their sins by exposing them on this blog sometime after I finally decide I don't like them.




One new rose that I already like very much is 'Souvenir du Docteur Jamain', an 1865 Hybrid Perpetual bred by Francois Lacharme.  My own-root specimen was planted in the Summer of 2012 and at its first birthday it stands three feet tall on several canes, with healthy dark green foliage and no blackspot yet, although it is too early for me to really judge the disease resistance of this rose. The BLOOMS are the strongest reason, if you need one, to grow this rose.  The canes are covered with these very double-formed and very dark red or wine-red colored blooms that are fairly large, perhaps four-inches in diameter, but yet the canes are stiff enough to keep the whole bush upright in the Kansas wind.  No slouching for Dr. Jamain!  Blooms are incredibly fragrant too, with odiferousness on a par with the fragrance of the best Bourbon roses, as one would expect from a seedling of 'General Jacqueminot' and 'Charles Lefebvre'.  I've been extremely pleased that every day since the first blooms, I've taken a picture of it, each day thinking the bush could not possibly sprout more blooms, and each day it is yet more covered.  The good Docteur is supposed to be remonant in flushes, but I don't know how often I'll see repeat bloom, since it didn't bloom at all last year.   'Souvenir du Docteur Jamain' does have a few thorns in defiance of references that say it is "nearly thornless," and I'm told that my 3 foot rose will eventually be difficult to keep under 7 feet tall, which may cause some problems in the Kansas tornadic wind storms.   The bloom color darkens with age, becoming more violet, like arterial blood fading to venous over time. In that, I suppose, it mirrors life and death, vitality and senility all on one plant.  Several sources state that this rose may burn in hot sunshine and I'm waiting to see if that will be the case in the Kansas sun.  So far, I've seen only deep purple, not brown from this rose.

A number of references attributed the revival of this rose to the infamous 'Vita Sackville-West', who reportedly discovered it growing in Hollamby's Nurseries (as named by Graham Thomas) and distributed it.  If that was indeed the case, then Vita, a pioneer in so many aspects of gardening, is also one of the earliest documented Rose Rustlers.  In the end, I expect to agree with Peter Beales, who, noting the problem of sunburn on the petals, nonetheless said "At its best it is of rare beauty and even at its worst can still be enjoyed."  I'm going to keep enjoying it as long as the bloom and the fragrance grace my garden.

Update 6/6/13:  Now I understand the notes about this rose "burning" in sunlight.  One day of harsh sun (it's been cloudy here for 6 days, very usual, and the rose turned into this: 

A number of dark old garden roses (Cardinal de Richelieu for example) do this so I didn't think about it being unusual.

Winnipeg UnWhineing

One of the unrecognized bonuses from growing a number of roses is the frequency of surprises one receives.  I've grown the AgCanada rose 'Winnipeg Parks' for several years, originally purchased solely to add to my hardy roses collection, without any real notice of her.  She never performed well enough to provide any excitement, nor did so poorly that I was terribly tempted to spade prune her.  The latter, of course, is no real recommendation because a rose has to either perform very very poorly for me to give up on it; or alternatively it has to die on its own to rid itself of my tortures. 

This year, however, seems to be a prime one for 'Winnipeg Parks'.  I first noticed that she looked healthier and more floriferous than normal at the K-State Rose Garden early last week.  And then in my own garden she popped out boldly and early this year, refusing to shrink into the scenery, with a bountiful set of flowers in a more brilliant pink than I had yet seen from her.  I don't know if it is a response to the drought last year or the colder winter, or some unknown factor, but like a Derby winning horse, this seems to be her year.

'Winnipeg Parks' is a Parkland Series rose bred by Henry Marshall (or Collicutt?) in 1981 and introduced in 1990.  Her name commemorates the City of Winnipeg Parks and Recreation Department centennial of 1993, which seems to be a trivial event for such a rose, but there you are.  She is officially labeled a deep pink, but her pinkness borders right on red-orange tones, and it has been called both cherry red and raspberry red in some articles (I could agree with the latter).  Whatever the color, it really stands out against the dark green, healthy foliage.  The mildly double blooms open quickly but hold their color reasonably well, fading only slightly before petal drop, and they have but a slight fragrance.  I have not known her to develop hips.  She is a small rose, standing at around 2.5 feet tall at 4 years of age in my garden, spreads a bit wider (at 3.5 feet) and I would not call her vigorous by any means.  I had a previous 'Winnipeg Park's that suffered along for 4 years and finally died after I moved her in an attempt to provide her more sun.  This newer clone seems to be healthier and I must have found the right place for her.  She is hardy to zone 2B and although she was rated very resistant to blackspot in the 1998 Montreal Garden Survey, I've seen her get a moderate amount of fungus here.  Not enough to spray, mind you, but enough to leave her ankles bare by September.

I think 'Winnipeg Parks' is worthy of holding a shrub rose spot in any garden, but she needs to be in the front of the border due to her small stature, and she needs to get plenty of sun to stay healthy.  In the right spot, she repeats often enough during the summer to serve as a bright pinkish-red focal point every month for as long as the warm weather holds.  Although I wouldn't have recommended her in years past, I must conclude that she either blossoms at maturity, or she just has a really good year now and again, a year good enough to justify keeping her around for an occasional special surprise.

Lillian Gibson Revival

All right, I can't stand keeping the secret any longer.  ProfessorRoush has a blooming 'Lillian Gibson'.  Yes, I do. I first heard about 'Lillian Gibson' in a post on GardenWeb in the early Summer of 2011, and I learned more about her in this earlier 2009 post from none other than Suzy Verrier, author of Rosa Gallica and Rosa Rugosa.   When Suzy Verrier recommends a rose as "the best climbing rose for harsh climates," I sit up and listen.

'Lillian Gibson'

It seems that 'Lillian Gibson', a Hybrid Blanda introduced in 1938 by Neils Hansen, had fallen from favor and commerce.  At one time, she was, according to Hansen himself  "the sensation at the Sioux Falls Flower Show, June, 1938."  Ms. Verrier initiated a forum post because she had persuaded Bailey Nurseries to offer it again and was alerting others to ask for it so that a minimum offering could be generated.  As the forum thread developed and others searched for it and lamented being unable to find 'Lillian Gibson', one of the most delicious comments I've ever seen on the web was posted near the end of that thread; "The masses of today aren't going to go after great-grandma in flannel PJs when they can have a bimbo in a bikini with silicone, even if it is all just in the power of suggestion."  Wow, modern horticulture summed up in a single sentence.

As it turns out, Bailey Nurseries likely did create some 'Lillian Gibson' plants that year, but they didn't sell well and the remains ended up as "bagged" roses at Home Depot in 2011, where I snagged two of them.  One of those decrepit bagged roses lived, with the result that I now have a 4 foot tall sprawling rose antique in my garden.

'Lillian Gibson', 2 years old and early in bloom

'Lillian Gibson' is a pink double rose that will grow to 5-10' tall at maturity, a tall shrub or a short climber.  In her second year, she is about 3 foot tall and 6 feet around for me.  This cross of  Rosa Blanda 'Aiton' X Red Star (hybrid tea) was an attempt by Hansen to create a line of thornless roses on the prairie.  There seems to be a little confusion about the actual rose, however, for some proclaim it's strong fragrance and others state that it has little or no fragrance.  I'm in the middle, allowing that she has some fragrance but it isn't overwhelming.  Walter Schowalter believed that there are two different 'Lillian Gibson' being grown, both of which were tall shrubs, hardy, once-blooming, with red winter canes, and without hips.  One, the true 'Lillian Gibson', has a few prickles and the flowers are shell pink.  The other, which Showalter dubbed 'Lillian Gibson Sibling' was completely thornless, a deeper rose color, and not as full.  I believe I've got the true one by this description as mine does have a few prickles and is a beautiful clear pink.  Hansen himself described 'Lillian Gibson' in the 1940 American Rose Annual as "the flowers are large, double, with over forty petals of a beautiful lively rose-pink, about three inches across, and with delightful rich fragrance. The plant, of strong, upright, sturdy growth, is a very abundant bloomer in late June; sparsely thorny on young shoots, with scattered thorns on the old shoots." 

Niels Ebbesen Hansen, whose nickname was the "Burbank of the Plains," was the first head of the horticulture department at South Dakota College of Agriculture and Mechanical Arts and served from 1895 until 1937.  He was an intrepid plant explorer and introduced hundreds of varieties of alfalfa, forage grasses, fruits, and roses bred to thrive in the cold, arid conditions of the northern plains.  There is a picture of him here at this site.   Somewhere along the line, most of his rose introductions have been lost, but others live on in the genes of hardy Griffith Buck and Canadian Roses. The losses of those roses are sad for rose lovers on the Plains, but I can understand it if 'Lillian Gibson's sole claim to fame was as the "sensation of the 1938 Sioux Falls Flower Show."  That's sort of like being the Squash Queen in Hog Heaven Falls, Oklahoma.  Thankfully, however, dedicated rosarians like Suzy Verrier keep singing her praises and some remnants of 'Lillian Gibson' will always survive in obscure gardens like mine.  The photo of the full bush above and to the left is today's picture, with only the central bud in each cluster blooming.  I'll update this blog in a few days with a picture of her full bloom.


Update: 06/02/13.  On this date, almost two weeks after she started blooming, I'll declare the bloom cycle of 'Lillian Gibson' at peak; feast your eyes!  Can you say "Wow"!

Trailer Trash Therese

'Therese Bugnet'

I find it odd that I have never blogged about one of first roses I ever grew; a rose that I purchased once and have grown at two different houses and in multiple places at each house.  That almost forgotten rose is the pink Shrub rose 'Therese Bugnet'.

Why have I neglected her for so long in this blog?  I suppose that part of the blame lies in the fact that 'Therese Bugnet' is an uninspiring rose (someone had to say it!).  'Therese Bugnet', in short, is the trailer park trash of the rose world, in my opinion.  Her large (4 inch) medium-pink semidouble to lightly double blooms flatten quickly and are quite untidy, with an occasional white streak in a petal to mar her beauty along with the mussed-up coiffure. She blooms loosely and profusely early in the rose season, and after that initial flush she is remonant, but she blooms in a miserly fashion, never without a bloom, but seldom with more than just a few.  She has a few small small thorns, almost not noticed, but often just enough to prick the unsuspecting.   Her mildly rugose foliage is dull and light matte gray-green, and she has little to no fragrance in my yard to draw the gardener to her, although opinions about her fragrance vary widely across the Internet.   In my first garden she also had a tendency to sucker all over the place, but in my current stony clay soil both bushes have behaved themselves completely.

But she is also forgotten because she's so darned healthy and hardy.  She has a fabulous, beautiful early flush of blooms and then I never pay any attention to her until another year rolls around.  I've never sprayed that rugose foliage of  'Therese Bugnet' for blackspot, and she keeps all her leaves right up until fall.  Hardy to Zone 2, she has never exhibited the slightest winterkill in my region.  In fact, while I often find myself thinning dead canes out of other hardy roses each spring, 'Therese Bugnet' needs none of that.  I have two bushes that are 10 years old and I don't believe I've ever taken a lopper or pruner to her.  She is one of the first roses to bloom in the Spring, so despite the imperfect blooms, she is much appreciated at that time of year when gardeners are in the tight grip of groundhog syndrome.  In Fall, the leaves often turn a nice red-burgundy color, unusual among the roses, and her canes are dark red in the Winter to provide some nice color to a drab garden.  Winter, in fact, may be the best season for 'Therese Bugnet'.

'Therese Bugnet' in front of 'Harison's Yellow'

'Therese Bugnet' is a hybrid Rugosa bred by Georges Bugnet in Canada around 1941.  Like her trailer park persona, her actual bloodlines are muddied, since Bugnet used a mixed pollen of 'Betty Bland' and R. hugonis and others for pollen and the seed parent has traces of  R. kamtchatica, R. rugosa, R. macounnii, and R. amblyotis.  She grows between 5 and 7 feet tall in my climate, and her vaselike shape is loose and informal, sprawling over neighbors in a friendly manner.  When I compare what other reviews say about Therese, I feel guilty that I may be a little too hard on her.  Comments on helpmefind.com are uniformly positive about 'Therese Bugnet'.  Suzy Verrier, in Rosa Rugosa, says she thought at first that the rose was "overrated", but that it grew on her.   I tend, myself, to prefer her virginally-white and more rugose sister, 'Marie Bugnet'.  And it may be that I am just better at recognizing trailer trash when I see it.