Yes, roses at last, rain or shine. Rather a lot of them actually.
This is a climber called Sombreuil, which is said something like Sohm-BRU-ee, named in 1850 for a young French woman who saved her father from the guillotine by drinking a goblet of blood, or maybe it was red wine but blood is the version that made her famous. Still, it’s a white rose named for her, a moderate climber, growing 8 to 12 feet tall (that would be 2.4384 to 3.6576 meters, Alberto) and intensely fragrant.
After growing for ten years where I initially planted it, this rose become engulfed in the shade of its birch-tree neighbors and had to be moved. There was a huge woody trunk and a root that went on into the center of the planet but I kind of ripped it out with just a few little upper roots attached. She is now growing on cheerfully in her new sunny location which just supports my theory that roses are almost impossible to kill.
The next image is Lady of the Mist, of the sort marketed as “English Legend” roses. It has interesting color and intense fragrance but really I wish they would let me name the roses.
I moved this rose a couple years ago. It woke up in a new neighborhood that spring but pretended not to notice. Madame Hardy is an old Damask rose, or Damask cross, bred in France in 1835, or 1856, or 1895. You see I’ve looked for information but the result was like a paper target full of buckshot instead of one with just one nice definitive hole in the middle…
I can however personally testify that the bloom is very fragrant, has just a shadow of pink in the white and lots of petals around a tiny green button.
I buy roses from an Oregon nursery called Heirloom Roses. They grow all their plants from ungrafted cuttings. (There are some roses that I can grow that way myself.)
Here is the roly-poly, fabulously fragrant (David Austin) rose, Jude the Obscure.
I used to read Thomas Hardy’s novels (no relation to Madame Hardy above as far as I know), and I think this is a much too fun and happy rose to be named for the bleak story of Jude. But in the next image he is showing the kind of bad judgement that we see in the novel as he consorts with that questionable Bouncing Bess (Saponaria officinalis).
Below is the short rose Mary Magdalene. (Look closely to see the halo.)
And here is a moss rose, one my mother gave me from her garden years ago.
There are too many roses since the deer haven’t broken in to eat any. I will be kind and stop with one more, which I believe is Sharifa Asma, another dramatic David Austin rose.
So pretty and romantic…
…and it seems to me that the name, Sharifa Asma, kind of suggests a tent in the desert.