My Great Grandmother's Rambling Rose

Hello friends!

Well, depending on how you look at it, the weather has been cruel or kind. And a lot depends on where you live. and what you got from heatwave to flooding at the extreme ends of the spectrum.  We have had several days of torrential rain, and high winds coming in.  We needed the rain desperately and everything now looks fresh and new again. No doubt the grass will be growing at a rate of knots and greening up making up for lost time over the recent long dry spell. So will the weeds!  However, I could certainly do without the high winds coming in.

What all of this means is that the garden has not needed any watering. It also means that from this afternoon on it will probably be trashed when it is now reaching its peak of bloom. Well, there's nothing we can do about it, as they say. it is what it is. 

A few entries ago now. and on some of my other social media platforms, I hinted at a rose that belonged to my great grandmother Today is the day to tell you the story as I know it.

I grew up in a house with a very long, narrow garden. Most of the houses in my street had narrow, long gardens. It was the kind of garden tended by generations of my family and had provided us with food and recreational space for decades.  After my father had done the alterations on the house. at the top of the steps that led up from the backyard. there was a small concreted patio area. alongside another small area of lawn Not big enough for anything other than a deck chair. Then there was a retaining stone wall that was built as a rockery. The rockery was covered in plants like snow on the mountain. and various colours of saxophage. red, white, pink, and other similar small plants. I wish we had been a family for taking photographs, but we were not. This would have made my story telling a lot easier.

A narrow footpath lead from the top of the steps right the way up to the top of the garden. It divided, without fences, our garden from next door up. our side was divided into several sections. First there was a lawn area. which had a beautiful big bromley apple tree. and where my swing was located. Further up, was another small Apple tree. Some fruit bushes, including an ancient gooseberry planted by my great grandfather for my mother. There was a long patch. of land that was. cultivated with vegetables. Near the top was Bonzo's kennel. later to become Skippy's kennel. after dear Bonzo's days. and at the very top above the kennel was the hen house, which kept us in eggs and the occasional Sunday roast dinner. The dogs were trained gun dogs because my father hunted for our table. He also fished. We were poor, but we were always well fed.

Returning to the lawn which on three sides had borders full of flowers. The lawn was my Grandmother's domain with occasional. help from my mother. We didn't own a lawn mower I don't think many people did back in those days when. the lawn was cut, my mother used to do it on her hands and knees with the garden shears. It must have taken hours on end, Yet, I never remember the lawn being overgrown or too long.

It was along one side, on top of the hedge that divided us from next door down, that there was a beautiful pink rambling rose. It flowered profusely all summer long. A wall of pink flowers. It was stunning. This rose, along with the Bramley Apple tree. are the two things I remember most from the garden at my childhood home.

Now, as the story goes, this pink rambling rose was planted on the edge by my great grandmother. How true this is. I do not know. however, I will. turn 66 this autumn. and I can never remember a time when that rose was not in the garden. Furthermore, it is still there today and still flowering to day. I am not certain when my great grandmother died but I believe it was in the late 1940s. by my calculations that rose must be in the region of 75 to 80 years old. Even if the story of my great grandmother planting it is a family urban legend given that I can never remember a time when it was not there, it must be well over 60 years old. Would that be some kind of record? I do not know.

Time passed. the other afternoon, I was sitting in my neighbour's garden. Now she has a beautiful pink rambling rose. on her wall overlooking the road.  Often, when I have passed by, I thought. How like my great grandmothers rose hers looks. So naturally, it came up in conversation. I told her the story, For her garden overlooks my old garden. I asked her if she could see the rose I was talking about from. her the end of her garden. Not only can she see it, but it turns out her rose is a cutting from the very rose that my great grandmother planted in my old childhood home.  A daughter from great grandma's rose!!!

As you can see, it is full of the tiniest. perfectly formed pink roses.  It is spectacular to see. even now, when it is a victim of bad weather, it is still beautiful.

I have now come away from my neighbour's garden with a tiny rooted cutting from the daughter of my great grandmother's rose.  I know I won't be around in another 60 or 70 years, but now I can't help wondering, will these roses survive another half century or more?

Do you have any heirloom plants with a story like this in your garden? Maybe you've moved several times and you've taken a potted plant with you that's belonged to your forebears. just because you move house doesn't mean you can't take some plants with you.  I'm sure we'd all be interested to know.

Until next time

Stay safe, stay well

Debbie xx