Savannah Garden Diary

January 22, 2008

Roses and Rain


We have had more than 3 inches of rain in the past week. And here is the new rain gauge to prove it. On a post in the veg garden.

I’ve planted several roses from the this month. Two ‘Zephirine Drouhin’: one to climb up the yaupon holly and onto the pergola, and I don’t now remember where the other one is! One ‘Souvenir de la Malmaison’ by the small live oak in front. It can grow up the tree as the tree grows. I know ARE doesn’t recommend letting either of these get as tall as they will have to in these locations, but I fell in love with John McEllen’s ‘Souvenir de la Malmaison’ at the Ships of the Sea Museum, which drips down from a fairly large tree. The other climber is Thom’s favorite Cherokee rose, which is at the base of the big pine in front and I hope will grow up it among the confederate jasmine. I shall have to keep an eye on this, because the confederate jasmine is well established and liable to smother a baby rose.

The smaller roses are ‘Blush Noisette,’ ‘Champney’s Pink Cluster,’ ‘Ducher,’ and ‘Mutabilis,’ which I’ve planted around the pond. I am not real fond of the color(s) of ‘Mutabilis,’ but it does have the great virtue of flowering over an amazingly long period in this part of the world.

December 15, 2007

Cherokee Rose

Filed under: Vines — Tags: , — karen @ 6:03 pm
Cherokee Rose

This is a rather nice photo of a Cherokee rose (Rosa laevigata). Although not native, this is the state flower of Georgia. It was imported from China about 200 years ago to be used as fencing, because it is amazingly prickly and fast-growing. (Which was why it was amazingly stupid of me to plant it on a pergola Thom and Richard built at Hilary Road right outside the patio door.)

I have just ordered one from the

Thom has found a pine tree between the lawn and the marsh where, with any luck, it can ramble without tearing anyone to pieces.

I think the loveliest example I have every seen was at the north end of Jekyll Island, where wisteria and Cherokee roses from abandoned homesteads scramble in their dozens up the pine trees.

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