Treasured Copper

Occasionally the fickle gods smile on the beleaguered gardener and a little serendipity serves to brighten the new day.  For me, a moment of surprise that remains fresh in memory is of driving a street in a blighted Colorado neighborhood on a bright Spring day to behold a gorgeous 'Austrian Copper' rose (Rosa foetida bicolor) sitting all alone on a standard street corner, blooming its flaming head off. I'd never encountered 'Austrian Copper' before, but a quick picture was all it took to enable me to identify it later, and thus to search out a source to add it to my own garden.

'Austrian Copper', Greeley, CO 2008

Look carefully at the picture to the left. The scene is a stunning 'Austrian Copper' next to a concrete sidewalk and asphalt street.  The weather has been so dry that the grass around the rose is completely splotchy and mostly dead, and the rose sits at the feet of a tree that probably is soaking up any leftover moisture in the rock hard soil. It's obvious that with little water, with absolutely no care, this picturesque dream of a rose is making up for all the shortcomings of its environment by blooming like it doesn't have a care in the world.

'Austrian Copper' is a very old rose, described at least as early as 1590.  Its single petals, colored by the burnt-orange pigments bestowed by chance, outline the bright yellow stamens, and the petals have a yellow reverse.  It's a rose that wears its heritage on its sleeves, commonly reverting to the bright yellow 'Austrian Yellow' (Rosa foetida) as it does at the bottom of the rose above. At least two sources state that an alternate name is Rose Capucine, although I cannot determine the origin of this name. True to its mysterious and duplicitous nature, some Internet sources describe it as a climber while others describe it as a short shrub reaching only two to five feet tall.  One reference correctly states that it tolerates poor soil and resents close pruning, two very desired qualities of a rose in my worldview. And anyway, who would even want to prune this rose, chancing to lose even a single bloom of the copper perfection?

I now have two 'Austrian Copper' to keep my prairie rose garden brightened; the original, a carefully-searched out and expensive cutting, and the second specimen, which showed up the following year for a pittance at the local Home Depot.  The latter appearance, of a coveted and seemingly rare rose in quantity at the local box store, is, of course, a sign that the gods have gotten the last laugh again.

Thigmomorphogenesis; say what?

For a long time I've made a little fun of the trees in my Flint Hills yard. They're perfectly fine trees, they are just, well, they are just a little thick around the waist, like a middle-aged male, and they lean a little bit to the south like, well, never mind. I've attributed both of those characteristics to the ever-present Kansas wind howling in from the northwest, but little did I know that the endearingly odd changes in my trees were a recognized scientific phenomenonen. In reading the latest book by Linda Chalker-Scott, The Informed Gardener Blooms Again, I came across the term "thigmomorphogenesis,"  which refers to changes (morpho) in the appearance of a plant in response to repeated touching (thigmo).  And repeated touching includes "touching" by the wind coming across the prairie. Recognized changes of thigmomorphogenesis include decreased stem elongation, increased stem thickness, smaller leaves, fewer flowers and increased senescence. This results in more firmly anchored trees with increased root to crown ratio that are then naturally more resistant to uprooting, splitting, and other wind damage. The whole concept of thigmomorphogenesis makes a little sense when you think of the short, stunted nature of alpine forest trees.  It also gives me a really good, smart-sounding excuse for the occasional lapse in flower production in my garden.

So thanks, Ms. Chalker-Scott, I'm now a little bit more horticulturally-educated, and I've also been firmly exposed for being no better than the grade school bully who makes fun of the new kid with glasses.  I mean, my trees couldn't help being short and squat and here I was making jokes of them.  I hope they don't develop a complex and sulk.  

For the Beauty of the Earth

North view from my house in December.

Subject to human failings like everyone else, I sometimes forget to look past the mildewed phlox and the blackspot on the roses and the burning August days and see the beauty that is everywhere around me on the prairie.  Thankfully, I am constantly reminded that one cannot live in the Kansas Flint Hills without eventually realizing that our gardens are but a minor fraction of the glory going on all around us. Whether it's the drying hay bales to feed winter stock that have been rolled up from the bountiful prairie, or whether its the fall russets that the prairie grasses take on, occasionally, just occasionally, the hues of the earth and sky come together to create a picture that one may capture in a few digital pixels, but can only dream of creating.  Fall rain washes the dust off  the grasses and the moisture makes the dull brown grasses turn red to meet the changing of seasons.  Eventually, the prairie tones itself to compliment the wide sky in autumn.

The heat will break.  Fall is coming.  Have a restful Sunday, one and all!     

Carefree Perfection

Readers of this blog already know that I'm partial to many of the roses bred by the late Griffith Buck.  It's a sure thing that Professor Buck created a number of marvelous and hardy roses specifically for the Midwest climate, but many of them remain unknown to rosarians in other areas where roses grow easily and large.

The most well-known and best of these roses has to be the aptly named 'Carefree Beauty'.  Here in the Flint Hills, 'Carefree Beauty' also has to be in the running for the title of Most Perfect Rose.  This clear pink stunner blooms continually and it's resistant to blackspot, drought, and wind.  It's so resistant to blackspot that in a survey by the Montreal Botanical Garden it was found to have only a 0-5% infection rate. The only time I've ever seen 'Carefree Beauty' look under the weather was during the ice storm of three winters ago, when a one-half inch coating of ice broke off several canes and generally made a ragged mess of one of my two specimens. 

'Carefree Beauty' grows about 4 feet tall in my garden and it's a rose that is not prone to send out new canes, but often has a central "stalk" that just widens and spreads over time.  I've rarely seen it without a bloom and the early bloom, as in the picture at the left, will knock your socks off.  Rated hardy to Zone 4b, it is completely hardy with no die-back in my Zone 5 garden.  It even adds winter interest with a nice display of globular orange hips.

'Carefree Beauty', released in 1977, has received its accolades from many sources.  This shrub rose was one of the first named to the Texas A&M EarthKind program (http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/earthkind/roses) and long before that recognition it was a popular rose propagated by the Texas Rose Rustlers with the study name 'Katy Road Pink'.  It's also been recommended by the University of Minnesota and as a solidly hardy rose and it was one of 24 roses that "passed the test" in Longwood Garden's Ten-Year Rose Trials (http://longwoodgardens.org/docs/educationalresources/roses.pdf).  'Carefree Beauty' is truly a rose for any garden and any gardener.