Striped and Rugose

I have Scott Keneda of Red Dirt Roses to thank for alerting me to the fact that my lust for striped roses was missing a key player;  a striped rose that would rebloom consistently, wouldn't get blackspot, and would stand up to colder climates without blinking.  That rose is Ralph Moore's 'Moore's Striped Rugosa', a 1987 introduction with the registration name of 'MORbeauty'.

Ralph Moore bred 'Moore's Striped Rugosa' from a complex seed parent named "9 stripe" crossed with 'Rugosa Magnifica'.  According to rosarian Paul Barden, the stripes come from 'Ferdinand Pichard' four generations back in the seed parent.  It was not released until 2005, when it was introduced by Sequoia Nursery, Moore Miniature Roses Historic Archive, a long time to wait for such an exceptional rose. 

'Moore's Striped  Rugosa' is slow growing for me, about a foot high in its first full summer, but healthy, with nice dark green Rugosa foliage.  It has been an almost continual bloomer since it was just a single stick with leaves, those beautiful uniquely striped and fully double flowers popping up again and again.  The petals have a red and white striped upper with an almost completely red reverse; the red itself is slightly to the blue side, much like 'Ferdinand Pichard' in hat regard.  Blooms average about 3.5 inches in diameter for me, and have a mild Rugosa-like fragrance.  They start out with hybrid-tea form and end up a mildly disheveled cup form, and so far they stand up well to the worst heat of summer.  Most references tell me that the bush will grow 4-5 feet in diameter and the mildly rugose foliage tells me that it will be blackspot free here.  It certainly has been so far, and it survived winter unprotected and cane-hardy.

The nicest thing about 'Moore's Striped Rugosa' is that it is a welcome change from the strong Rugosa genes of mauve-rose-purplish roses and single or semi-double blooms.  I think this one will be quite a show piece when it reaches it's mature size.  Does anyone know if it sets hips?  Oh, that's probably too much to ask for, isn't it?   No rose is perfect.

Witches' Broom Arrives

The first words in my mind, about three weeks ago, as I discovered the potential disaster pictured to the right, was a horrible parody of Draco Malfoy in the first Harry Potter movie:  "It's true then.  Rose Rosette Disease has come to Hogwarts."  Read that statement with a really exaggerated English accent and you'll know how it sounded in my mind.  Crazy, I know, but somehow I must have neurons cross-firing between "witches' broom" and my mental images of the magical world of Hogwarts to make that connection.  And, yes, I'm a fan of the Harry Potter series, but, no, I haven't taken to calling my garden "Hogwarts."  I don't have a name for my garden.  Come to think of it, "Hogwarts" might be as good as any, but I'm guessing that Mrs. ProfessorRoush won't see the humor in it.


I digress, however, as I try to avoid the awkward subject at hand.  Although I'm not entirely 100% positive, I highly suspect that the misshapen foliage and canes show above are Rose Rosette Disease on my 'Golden Princess' rose.  I suppose there is always some faint hope that this was damage from herbicide drift, but that multi-prickled cane appearance and warped leaves are pretty damning evidence to the contrary.   The canes on this rose should look like the photo at the left, a more normal area of the bush. 

Either because of inborn psychology, or due to my veterinary medical training, I'm not one to wait around and ignore a potentially garden-fatal cancer.  I'm not Scarlett O'Hara in my garden, thinking I can worry about this tomorrow.  In my reading on Rose Rosette Disease, I know that immediate action is necessary to prevent spread to other roses.  Since I grow over 200 other roses, an epidemic of RRD is to dreadful to contemplate, a fear which also helped me take decisive action.

I immediately initiated the "one strike and you are out" philosophy used by other RRD victims.  I have chopped out every cane (yes, with an axe!) that appeared to have any disease and I included the roots of those canes, resulting in the small and normal- appearing remnant displayed to the right.  This rose has one chance, a chance possible only because it is an own root rose and I could divide it without splitting a bud union.  If it shows me any sign of RRD in the near future, then this remainder gets shovel-pruned immediately, day or night, rain or heat.  I know there is no wild multiflora rose within over 0.5 miles, so I don't know how it arrived here except in the Kansas wind, but I'm not going to baby a diseased rose in my garden.

In the interests of rose-related education, if you've never seen RRD, take a good look at that top photo.  Symptoms of RRD include excessive thorniness, leaf malformation, bright red leaf and stem pigmentation, enlarged cane diameter or elongated shoots, and "witches' broom", the latter characterized by a dense mass of leaves and stems growing from a single point.   The causal agent of RRD has recently been proven to be a negative-sense RNA virus in the genus Emaravirus (Laney AG, et al, J Gen Virology 2011:92:1727-1732), that is spread by the Rose Leaf Curl Mite (Phyllocoptes fructiplilus) mite.

One deformed leaf, and 'Golden Princess' is no more.  At least I've got another, ordered last Winter by mistake...or was it by fortuitous clairvoyant foresight?

An Old Story

In my garden, working there,
I came across a spry young Hare.
It didn't run, it knew no fear,
It's known the gardener all this year.

This gardener will not do it in,
The Rabbit knows he is a friend.
The Rabbit calmly sits and chews,
The gardener watches now amused.

Rabbits are the price one pays,
For hale and healthy garden sprays,
Of flowers borne on strong green stems,
Of green leaves dancing in the winds.

But in the garden, somewhere near,
Other things are there to fear.
The Rabbit plays on unaware,
That Snake might also slither there.

Sometime soon, the two will meet,
The Snake and Rabbit, one with feet,
The other moves with rippling hide.
The Snake and Rabbit must collide.

Little Rabbit does not know,
The hand the gardener doesn't show,
His Karma never needs to suffer,
Fate will do the deed, but rougher.

Almost every day for the past month, I've come across this little rabbit in my garden, moving here or there, hiding until I was almost upon it.  We've visited enough that this rabbit is now tame, allowing me to move within an arms length this weekend without darting away in frantic fear.  Two hours later I came across this fully grown, magnificent Western Rat Snake in the vegetable garden and I didn't dart away in frantic fear either.   In general, I think rabbits are cute, but I'm not very excited about resident rabbits in my garden.  They don't often cause enough damage to irritate me, but as long as they're around, it is always possible that I go out some morning to find a prize new rose nibbled down to kindling.  I'm not very excited about resident snakes, either, but at least they don't harm the plants, unlike the rabbits.  In the end however, I'm most worried about my kriyamana Karma.  The Hindus may or may not be right, but why chance bad Karma merely to gain a few more flowers?  ProfessorRoush is generally, therefore, a benevolent God over his garden and is quite willing to let nature make the choice.  I suspect this Western Rat Snake will come across this rabbit sooner or later and will be greet it with a nice tight hug.  After all, Kansas is not overrun with rabbits as Australia has been and it isn't because the rabbit's don't breed like, well, like rabbits.  I don't want to be there to see the messy end, but sooner or later, I'm sure I'll come across this large proud snake with a big bulge in its body.  And after that I won't worry about the roses for awhile.

Nature can be very hard.

Bench 2.0

ProfessorRoush places a high value on permanence when selecting garden ornaments or furniture.  I like concrete or iron rather than plastic or wooden.  I want unpainted statuary versus stained or painted figures that need to be refinished every few years.  Heavy pieces are chosen so that I don't need to travel to Missouri to find them after every thunderstorm. Tasteful pieces appear when I can find them, although my tastes are subject to debate and questionable in many instances.

Consequently, when my old iron and wooden garden bench to the right of the front walkway started to deteriorate beyond the point where staining the wood was curative, and to the degree where sitting on it was a chancy proposition, I knew it was time to find a new one, but I couldn't part easily with the ironwork.  This old bench had stuck with me through wind and rain, snow and heat. Who wouldn't have a little interior rot when you spend each of 10 winters outside under a blanket of ice or snow? This bench deserved a second chance and I was just sentimental enough to give it one.

Enter Bench 2.0, my amateur remake using the original iron sides and back.  I used composite/permanent redwood-colored deck material for the seat and back.  The decking material didn't come in the right widths, but I overcame and adapted with selective use of the pre-drilled iron holes and bolts with lock washers.  I tend, when building something, to build crudely but to over engineer everything, so I assure you that six weight-challenged individuals and a dog could sit safely on the new bench.  The curved back iron piece would have required too much work to make it fit, but I reversed it and screwed it back onto the back to increase the weight of this piece and keep the floral print visible.  At this point, nothing short of a tornado is going to move this bench, which I've relocated to my growing "redbud grove" near the shade of a Cottonwood.  Not as formal, but still classy, eh?  It won't need to be redone again for like the next 6 million years and only then to repaint the iron.  And the cost to redo?  Less than a new bench (in fact less than the metal bench that replaced it out front).

You're wondering about the light blue sides aren't you?  That happens to be my "color" for the garden.  I paint almost all the iron in my garden that hue of rust-inhibiting paint, known variously as "wildflower blue," "brilliant blue," or "periwinkle blue" depending on the brand.  I think it looks nice when placed among almost anything in a garden, and it stands out just enough to call attention to itself without screaming at visitors.  Please don't tell Mrs. ProfessorRoush that my garden has a "color" though.  She'll laugh at me and call me strange. There is no accounting for taste is there?