"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Lady Banks’ Rose (2 of 2)

From “Roses of Nature: Origins of the Species” in The Rose: An Illustrated History by Peter Harkness:

“All the roses of the world in their glorious variety descend from wild roses. These naturally occurring species have been recorded in literature and folklore for centuries, but their origins stretch back further beyond written history. Indeed, the very earliest roses known to science are fossils….

“There are at least three different stories explaining how [
R. banksiae] came to Europe. One states that seed of R. banksiae alba-plena sown in Italy in 1869 germinated as R. banksiae normalis and was exhibited in Florence in 1874. Another story holds that the species was recorded in China in 1877 and came to Paris in 1884. There is also the tale that in 1796 a plant was taken from China to Megginch Castle in Scotland. It failed to flower due to a combination of unwise pruning and cold springs, but survived, and in 1905 cuttings were taken to the south of France where they proved to be R. banksiae normalis.

R. banksiae normalis bears sprays of simple white or yellowish white flowers, which appear in great profusion in early summer on stems that can extend 40 feet (13m) or more. The flowers carry the scent of violets, and the effect is such that in its native China it is known as the ‘wood smoke’ rose, or ‘Mu-Hsiang’. Its preferred native habitats are valleys and rocky places near a source of water, and in Yunnan it is grown around paddy fields to help stabilise banks and keep livestock away….

“This ‘aristocratic and altogether splendid rose’ (to quote Graham Thomas) proved rather tender for the British climate, but in 1799 it was sent to the President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson, who was a keen rose fancier. It was so well suited to the dry south-east states that it became a serious environmental problem there. In Bermuda, where it also suckers freely, it is known as ‘the fried egg’, and the Bermuda Rose Society has issued a special warning to its members: ‘Think twice before planting!!'”


Hello!

This is the second of two posts featuring photos of Lady Banks’ Rose from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. The first post is Lady Banks’ Rose (1 of 2).

If you’d like to read more than I included in the quotation above about Lady Banks’ and other roses at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello plantation, see this article: The China (Rose Revolution) from the Thomas Jefferson Foundation’s Monticello web site.

Thanks for taking a look!









Lady Banks’ Rose (1 of 2)

From “Renaissance and Romantic Roses: 1500-1800” in A History of the Fragrant Rose by Allen Paterson:

“[A] late eighteenth-century addition to our complement of roses… came from China and, although the first introduction is quite well documented, it took from 1796 to 1909 to flower. Now, while R. banksiae, for this is it, does take a few years to settle down to flower well, to take over a century is excessive. The story is that Robert Drummond brought it from the Far East whence he had accompanied his brother, Admiral Drummond. The rose was planted at the family home, Megginch Castle in Scotland. There it grew but, lacking hardiness, was so frequently cut down by the frost that it had failed to develop the three-or-more-year-old thornless stems which are necessary for it to flower. Eventually, cuttings from this specimen were grown in a garden in the French Riviera: this, Mr. [Graham] Thomas asserts, was the first time the single wild white form of Lady Banks’ Rose flowered in Europe.

“It obtained its name, however, from another form and another introduction, but close enough to the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to make it permissible to mention it here. One of the earliest professional plant collectors was William Kerr, whom the Royal Society sent to China in 1803. He brought from a Canton garden the double white form of this rose. It flowered near Kew in 1807 and was named after the wife of the Royal Gardens’ director, Sir Joseph Banks….

“Subsequently, first double and then single yellow forms were discovered: all are most lovely plants, especially enjoying the warmth of a Mediterranean climate. To see the soft yellow forms cascading out of high olive trees in association with wisteria, in Corfu for instance, is a magnificent sight.”


Hello!

I first discovered this Lady Banks’ Rose plant at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens last year — which means I had either overlooked it previously (this happens more often than you might think) or it was a new planting. Let’s just say it was a new planting, so it sounds more like a discovery than the overcoming of the overlooking of something. To be fair to myself, though, it’s possible I had just missed its showy blooming season, after which it was a rather ordinary looking shrub that didn’t need to be photographed.

In last year’s post, I photographed the plant in its very early blooming stages — see Lady Banks’ Rose (and Rose Mania) — to emphasize how the flowers produced clusters of yellow cone-shaped blooms at the top of single stems. This year, I took some wider photos as well — and you can gather from the images how many branches and flowers the plant produces, especially as it easily doubled in height and ground coverage since it posed for me previously. The flowers at this stage gather in very dense bunches, yet the plant overall still maintains a certain shapeliness that I’ve attempted to highlight by photographing it from different perspectives and adding some light and saturation to emphasize its forms. It occupies the intersection between two of the garden’s pathways and is surrounded by ferns, as well as the hellebores, vinca, and some of the azaleas that I photographed this year.

Its history is fascinating, though somewhat confusing — but I’ve represented a little about its introduction to Europe in the quotation above. In the second of two posts featuring this plant, I’ll include a few more historical tidbits, and describe one of the ways Lady Banks’ Rose made its way from Great Britain to the colonial United States.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!







Blooming Bluebells

From “Jottings in the Churchyard at Ragaz” in Poems 1906-1926 by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by J. B. Leishman:

Think of brightness through the foliage streaming
down into the shade where breezes blow…:
how in that strange light’s ethereal gleaming,
scarcely swung, will stand some single-seeming,
tall-grown bluebell, far below….

From “Derbyshire Bluebells” in Selected Poems by Sacheverell Sitwell:

The wood is one blue flame of love,
It trembles with the thrush and dove;
Who is this honey beacon for,
That burns this once, then never more?
Whose lutes hide in the young green leaves?
Who sorrows here when no one grieves?

The misty spaces in the boughs,
No shouts will fill, no stone will rouse
If at those panes we beat in vain
Why hope to quench that fire with rain?
Why beat the bluebells down to find
How fire and honey are combined?

There is no space for foot to tread
Unless you bruise the flower head,
No corner where you cannot hear
The dove’s long croon, the thrush sing near,
Like bells out of the trees’ tall spires
These songs above the bluebell fires….

From “English Bluebells” in The Story of Flowers and How They Changed the Way We Live by Noel Kingsbury:

“Going to visit the bluebells has been a tradition for many [British] families for more than a century, mainly in their stronghold of southeastern England. Starting just as spring is turning into summer, the flowers can turn woodlands into lakes of blue that in some cases seem to reach as far as the density of tree growth allows us to see….

“Historical records of bluebells are relatively few and far between, and the plant was known to our ancestors more as a source of starch for stiffening the ruffs worn by the wealthy of Elizabethan England than as something to admire. It was not until the nineteenth century that writers took much notice of it, and gardeners too. Small patches of bluebells are rather unimpressive, and it is no surprise that the larger, and paler, Spanish bluebell,
H. hispanica, makes a better garden plant. Finally, it is worth noting that the common name is an English designation. For the Scots the bluebell is Campanula rotundifolia; for the Americans it is Mertensia virginica; and Nigerians and New Zealanders have their own, totally unrelated, ‘bluebells’ too.”


Hello!

Below is a small collection of bluebell photographs, taken at Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens last month. While not as impressive a display as those of the English woodlands that Noel Kingsbury describes above, they were still quite adorable growing in sandy soil at the base of an ancient oak tree near the garden entrance, with a few peeking through the seat of an old wrought iron bench nearby.

Thanks for taking a look!