Barden's Crested Damask

The rose season has started here and I should show you the first new rose that I'm excited about.  'Crested Damask' was a 2012 addition that I obtained as a rooted cutting, or band, from Rogue Valley Roses. She isn't much of a bush yet, but the raspberry-bubblegum-pink color you see here is just shouting to be noticed above the foliage around it.   If she were a bigger bush she would stand out clear across my garden. 

'Crested Damask', or ARDmarcrest, is a 2005 introduction from the breeding program of Paul Barden.  This is a once-blooming, very double rose of  about 3.5 inches in diameter that opens in almost-quartered fashion complete with button eye, and blooms in small clusters of 3-5 flowers.  She is a cross of 'Marbree' and 'Crested Jewel'.  I was interested to see 'Marbree' in her pedigree because the first time I saw 'Crested Jewel' in bloom I thought she had a resemblance to 'Rose de Rescht' and  'Rose de Rescht' is a parent of 'Marbree'.  The fragrance is very strong and very old rose.  The bright pink color speaks favorably of itself and pops out from the green foliage around it.  And best of all, the 10 or 12 blossoms that I've seen so far have all been perfectly formed, unmarred by late freezes, winds, or sun.  I've begun to take note of roses of dark color that get baked in my summer heat, and 'Crested Damask' is not among them. 

I haven't needed to spray her nor did I see her get any blackspot last year, but she is still small-statured for me, currently about two feet tall and wide.   Planting her into fall during our third year of drought and placing her under the shade of an adjacent five foot rose probably hasn't helped the growth of 'Crested Damask', but she survived last year's harsh winter without dieback and I can attest to her hardiness in zone 5/6 (whatever last winter was).   I have seen conflicting information on the ultimate height of this rose; helpmefind lists her as a 5'-7' shrub, while Rogue Valley Roses lists her as 2'-3'.  Paul Barden himself says she is likely to be a 5 foot shrub or more.

If you come by this time of year, look across the garden for a raspberry-pink splash, and then, as you draw closer, don your sunglasses to spare your eyes from her brilliance.  As long as she stays healthy, 'Crested Damask' has a bright [sic] future in my garden.

Queen of the Irises

ProfessorRoush has a favorite iris.  Hand's down, no question about it, a definite favorite.  I grow all colors and types of irises.  I maintain approximately forty different varieties that still survive my neglectful gardening.  I'm partial to the purples like 'Superstition', so deep they are almost black.  I fancy the bright sky blue irises such as 'Full Tide'.  I love the soft pink refined splendor of 'Beverly Sills'.  But it is bicolored and vivacious 'Edith Wolford' that holds my iris heart.

I fought long and hard to obtain 'Edith Wolford'.  Every year at the local iris sale I would rush to her spot in the alphabet first, only to be beaten to the spot by a purse-swinging senior lady or to find that all the divisions had been sold privately before the public sale.  A friend finally took pity on me and set aside a fan for me.  Or, as a second friend pointed out, I acquired 'Edith Wolford' by cheating.  A gardener can only sustain the bruises from heavy handbags and bony elbows a few times before he must take preemptive action to end the abuses.

'Edith Wolford' was a 1984 introduction by the late Ben Hager,and she has received all the top American Iris Society awards including the Dykes Medal of Honor (1993), the highest award given.  Hager was the owner of Melrose Gardens in California, and he also hybridized the above-mentioned 'Beverly Sills' (1985 Dykes Medal of Honor).   'Edith Wolford' is the perfect contrast of soft yellow standards and gentle blue falls.  Her beard is a brighter yellow, a beacon to the insects who would steal her pollen.  She even occasionally reblooms.  'Edith Wolford', however, does not always photograph well since cameras tend to make the soft blue falls more purple than they really are.  For example, the top picture on this page was taken on my "good" Canon camera, and the picture at the right was taken on my iPhone.  Both are a little purple-tinged, although the top picture does more closely capture the quality of the canary-yellow standards.

I won't entertain negatives in regards to 'Edith Wolford' in my garden since she grows so well here, but to be fair, other gardeners dismiss her as sickly, sparing of her blooms, slow to grow, and prone to rot.  To those who would be her detractors, I will mangle a quote from the The Hunger Games and suggest, "May your odds with irises be never in your favor." 

Volunteer Opening

Another mystery of my garden was revealed last night when a volunteer peony seedling (sapling? stalk? plant?) opened for the first time.  Until I first noticed this little gem in 2012, growing where it shouldn't be, I was unaware that some peonies would self-seed if they weren't deadheaded.  There were 6 or 8 ancient peonies near the orchard where I was raised, and I never noticed any distant seedlings, but perhaps that was because we mowed around each peony and never gave them a chance.  In contrast, my cypress-mulched and partially shaded front garden must be perfect for peony babies, because I've now got three small new peonies where none was planted.

My natural approach of live-and-let-live for self-seeding plants paid off perfectly this time.   This little girl is presumably a self-cross of 'Kansas' or 'Inspector Lavergne', or a cross of the two, since there are several of each in the bed.  Regardless of the parentage, I'm pleased at the almost bright-red coloration, the prominent yellow stamens, and the semi-double form, and I think I'll keep this one around under an appropriate study name such as 'Roush's Red'.  The blue foliage at the top of the picture, if you're wondering, is a blue-green sedum, 'Strawberries and Cream'. 

If you recognize the foliage of a volunteer plant, and it isn't a weed, don't pull it up.  You just never know the gifts you've been given until you, in turn, give them a chance to shine.

 

Predictable Poser

ProfessorRoush has spent the last 3 years puzzling over the provenance of a perfect little rose seedling that I found in the shade of 'Hope for Humanity' late one summer.  Praying that I had a new little self-seeded hybrid of my very own, I transplanted it to a new bed where it would get plenty of sun and I waited for it to bloom.

At the end of a full growing season, in 2012, the rose was about 12 inches tall, and still perfectly healthy, but it did not bloom.  It was obviously winter-hardy and had no blackspot.  It had small foliage of 7 leaflets that roughly resembled a R. spinosissima, but the only two R. spinosissima hybrids I've ever grown were 'Harison's Yellow' and 'Stanwell Perpetual'.  'Stanwell Perpetual' had been grown near the birthing site about 6 years ago, but was long dead.  Could this rose be from a surviving root of that rose?  If it was, then why wasn't it blooming?

I waited another year, believing that even a non-remonant rose would bloom at the start of the 2013 season, but the plant still didn't bloom.  By that time, my theory was that I had a seedling of R. arkansana, the wild rose of the local prairies, and I was kicking myself for thinking it could be anything else.  But R. arkansana's foliage in the nearby prairie looked bigger than my rose, and by the end of last season, the rose was 3 feet tall, with long canes and small short prickles everywhere.  Thankfully, it was still completely free of blackspot.  But what was it?

This week, the mystery was solved for me.  The rose has been blooming with these little pink single-flowered blossoms.  I looked at them, looked over my shoulder at the R. eglanteria (R. rubiginosa) growing in another bed, and I confirmed the identity of my seedling as R. rubiginosa by rubbing a few leaves and releasing that nice green apple scent.  Somehow, (a bird?) Shakespeare's Sweetbriar rose had seeded itself 200 feet away from the bed in which it grew. 

I suppose it could still be a hybrid, but I can't tell my rose from the species at present.  We'll confirm it again when hips form.  Mystery solved, but do I really want another monstrous R. eglanteria near a pathway and short of room?  I think not.  It'll have to be moved.