Conrad Ferdinand Meyer

If there were a rose that I would describe as a "mixed blessing", it would have to be  'Conrad Ferdinand Meyer', a 1897 cross by Dr. Franz Hermann Müller between seed parent 'Germanica' and a seeding from a cross of 'Gloire de Dijon' and 'Duc de Rohan'.  Classified as a Hybrid Rugosa because of the 'Germanica' parent, the popular 'CFM' is mentioned in almost every magazine article that lists Rugosas.  Still, having grown it myself for a number of years, I sometimes wonder at the sanity of those who grow it.  Perhaps the mental instability of its namesake, Swedish poet and historical novelist Conrad Ferdinand Meyer, has rubbed off on the rosarians who grow the rose.

'CFM' does have many positive attributes to separate it from other Hybrid Rugosas.  The double blooms and soft silvery pink color are more similar to a "modern" rose than other Rugosa hybrids; the latter often flattened, semi-double mauve-ish flowers in form.  The blooms are large (more than 4 inches in diameter in my garden), borne in small clusters, and repeat sporadically over the season.  'Conrad Ferdinand Meyer' is also very, very fragrant, even for a Rugosa.  The bush is cane-hardy in my garden, with only minimal tip dieback in the worst winters.  All of these, but especially the fragrance, are reasons why I grow this rose.  No one who sees this bush questions my sanity. 



But it has a number of negative attributes as well.  Blooms tend to ball up like the picture at the right, especially in cold weather.   The matte foliage is not as blackspot resistant as more "rugose"cultivars such as 'Blanc Double de Coubert' or 'Purple Pavement', and my 'CFM' will drop about 75% of its leaves in mid-summer if I don't monitor it.  In areas where rust is common in roses, 'CFM' is notoriously susceptible.  I also wouldn't call it a vigorous rose;  for years I grew it in the middle of native prairie and the nearby grass competed for enough moisture and nutrients to keep it spindly and on the constant verge of death. The thorns are sharp, flat out dangerous and guaranteed to draw blood if you are not careful (I suppose that's a positive if you plant it in front of the window of a teen-age daughter).  The bush is tall, stiff, and ungainly.  The 'CFM' in the Reinsch Rose Garden of Topeka grows over 8 feet tall and wide, magnifying the ugliness of the bush.  My specimen, even after I moved it to a more cultivated bed where it has less competition, has stayed around 5 feet tall and not as wide.   

I do have one final personal observation in favor of this rose.  We don't often see roses included in a list of "deer resistant" plants, but I'm here to testify that 'Conrad Ferdinand Meyer' can take a deer licking and keep on ticking.   You'll recall that Conrad Ferdinand Meyer seems to be the choice of deer that graze in my winter garden.  In the winters of 2012 and 2013, I lost count of the number of pictures my game camera took of deer sampling directly from the bush pictured above and at the left.  And yet they didn't seem to cause much damage on the rose that I could find.  Maybe deer are drawn to it, but the thorns ultimately fend off those velvety deer lips.  All I know is that year after year it looks and performs the same regardless of its dietary contributions to the browsing deer.  The first picture of the overall bush was from May of 2013 and the second from May, 2014, still standing tall after a really tough winter from both deer and weather.

Foggy Fancies

These ARE the prairie mornings I live for.  Cool summer mornings after warm summer days equal fog.  Fog equals serenity and quiet, protection from searing sun, and slow contemplative moments stolen from hectic days.  The sounds of the far off highway are stilled and construction on a nearby house has yet to recommence.  Bird still rest, happy to remain grounded rather than fly against the moist and heavy air.   I wander happily on mornings like this, isolated from the greater concerns of the world and listening to the smaller joys within, happy to live for a second in the moment.  On workdays a relentless clock stays tied to my mind, holding me back from complete release. These foggy starts are even better on weekends, when nothing is waiting or undone that can't be started later.

Mornings such as these, the prairie waits.  There is no sense of foreboding in the dense humid air, no haste to act.  There is only calm and peace, dew condensing on thirsty grass, upright purple Verbena matching the somber mood of the moment.  There is no hurry here, no rush to meet the end of summer.   The grasses will change slowly, alerted to Fall by onset of these cool nights, chameleons forming the rusty colors that will be September's prairie.  The forbs will form seed and droop to deposit future life into waiting earth.  Prairie fauna withdraw, each in their own way, hibernation or migration, death and rebirth, cocoon or burrow. 

Ding and Dong, the donkeys, did not violate the calm this morning with greeting brays, but walked over quietly to accept apple slices.   They are kind morning companions, solid and steadfast, content amidst the grasses and wind.  Dong was sleeping as I approached, stretched out on a bed of matted prairie grass, while Ding kept watch.  I wished for a moment that I were Donkey, surrounded by plenty and living in the sunshine and fresh air, no plans, needs met, worries unborn.  But the fog lifts, the demanding clock calls, and I cannot be Donkey for more than a moment, a fine stolen moment of ease.

Slithering Surprise

"Take out the garbage."  "Water the hydrangea." "Refill the bird feeders."  My mind was busy running down a list of things to get done as I walked out the garage door and down the steps at sunrise.  As I turned back around to fill the pail with birdseed, I noticed that I had walked right by this little guy, who was waiting in ambush just inside the door for his morning rodent.

 I'm proud to say that my self-restraint at sudden snake appearances has evidently reached a new level of control. This time, for perhaps the first time, I did not spontaneously levitate, shout, or run.  I merely said "Hi, little guy," took the iPhone photograph above, and walked back past him to get the good camera.



Seeing that Mrs. ProfessorRoush was awake and taking care of Bella, I told her to come out the garage door to see something "neat."  She followed me back outside, took one quick glance, and pivoted back inside so fast she left a scorch mark on the concrete, all while fixing me with a cold stare over her shoulder and telling me never to do that again.  It was an impressive bit of ballet.  Lesson learned; Mrs. ProfessorRoush requires morning coffee before she is ready to deal with snakes.

I took another few pictures, ignored the snake's impertinent and rude tongue gestures, and then gently swept this cute little Common Garter Snake (Thamnophis sirtalis) off the edge of the driveway into the lilacs.   I hope he's learned his lesson and catches his rodents outside in the rocks in the future, saving me from further marital discord or spousal displeasure.

Pretty Prairie Lass

One of last year's additions to my garden was this pretty pink-toned shrub rose named 'Prairie Lass'.  I have two bushes of this rarely grown Griffith Buck rose and I've been waiting for them to get tall enough and old enough for me to form some opinion.

'Prairie Lass' is a 1978 introduction that I obtained from Heirloom Roses in 2013.  This double (25-30 petals) rose blooms in clusters that open bright pink with darker stipples and then fade to very light pink.  Flowers open fully to form a flat to slightly cupped final form and they stay on the bush a long time as they age. 'Prairie Lass' doesn't seem to be a continuous bloomer, but rather reblooms in moderately profuse flushes over the summer.  The picture at the left, taken July 27th, is the third full bloom of this summer and it is nearly as full as the first on these two young bushes.  There are other times these bushes have been without a single bloom.  The individual blooms are small, about 2.5 to 3 inches in diameter here.

I would rate the fragrance of 'Prairie Lass' as slight to moderate.  The bush is quite healthy, with no yellowing or leaf drop from fungus now in the fourth month of warm weather.  I found 'Prairie Lass' to have few thorns.  Internet sources say that it may reach 5 feet tall in time.  Unlike many of my roses, there was no dieback at all of 'Prairie Lass' last year in our harsh winter.


So, should you grow 'Prairie Lass'?   It seems to be a nice rose and bush and is healthy enough to keep a place for it in a collection of Buck roses.  But I don't think it is a rose that will ever make a garden visitor gasp in surprise.  Nor will anyone likely become ecstatic over the fragrance or the individual blooms of this rose.  In the end, my recommendation would be to seek it out if you're a Buck rose nut (like me), but otherwise don't put extra time into a search for this rose.   And, as Mrs. ProfessorRoush would point out, it is just one more pink rose among thousands.