Monday, November 30, 2009

About a Rose

Way back when I was living in Boston and working for starvation wages at a rather grim college for musicians, I had a secret dream. Well, I had two; but the first involved feeding the president, provost and faculty of the grim college for musicians into a wood chipper, so I kept it quiet.

The second was to be a host on The Victory Garden. Didn't happen. It's tough to land a job demonstrating the proper way to espalier an apple tree when you've never actually tended any plant that wouldn't fit in a window box.*

All of my adult life, you see, I've been a city apartment dweller with–at best–a south-facing windowsill deep enough for a couple of African violets. So, although I yearned for a bit of earth, I was stuck with Gertrude Jekyll, The Victory Garden, and digging compulsively in my window box with a very tiny spade. Did you know that too much loving care can actually kill an African violet?

Since African violets are supposed to be the one thing still blooming after a nuclear holocaust, when I got my hands on a rose bush I figured the sucker was toast.

Mind you, I'm talking about one tough mofo of a rose. It grows on this property in Chicago's Wrigleyville neighborhood–so-called because of its proximity to the famous Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs baseball team.

This rose sprouted voluntarily in a bed adjacent to the sidewalk, and there survived at least 25 brutal Chicago winters without a lick of attention. It is also an easy target for drunken Cubs fans who stop to pee on it as they stumble away from yet another ignominious defeat. A rose that can handle being pissed on every time the Cubs lose is a rose that wants to live.

When I took control of the flower bed, the rose was alive, but only just. It had one large dead and two small living stems, the tallest being six inches high. Nobody knew what color it was, since nobody in the building could remember it blooming. One year it achieved a bud, which promptly turned black and fell off. If it were a person, this rose would have spent every day in a dark bedroom listening to emo and writing Twilight slash fiction.

After doing a little soil preparation, I moved the whole plant from the shady corner to a sunnier spot on the other side of the bed. I fed it. I watered it. I encouraged it to do its own thing, but told it I was there if it needed me.

And three months later, look what happened.

First Rose

Just a small bloom, yes; but it burst forth with panache and lasted an entire day until a passing hurricane lopped it off at the neck. So I christened it Marie Stuart.

Not long after, Marie managed another bloom. By then it was nearly September, and in Chicago's climate after September 1st all bets are off as to what the weather might do. As I watered the bed, I found myself humming a favorite song, John Stevenson's "The Last Rose of Summer."

If you were assembling an album to be titled Queen Victoria's Greatest Hits, "The Last Rose of Summer" would jockey for top billing with "Home, Sweet Home" and "The Lost Chord." The lyric–actually a poem by the Irishman Thomas Moore–is a real heart-tugger.

In the first stanza, we note the eponymous blossom, looking lovely but lonely:
'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.

Sniff. But wait, it gets better. This is a Victorian poem, remember? And what's a Victorian poem without a little premature death?

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

In case you're made of stone, Moore throws in one more stanza that ponders the futility of life and the cold, cold solace of the grave.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
From Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit,
This bleak world alone?

OMG. ROFCMMBS.**

Seriously, it's really a sweet, simple little piece. These days it's more or less the property of schlockmeisters like Charlotte Church and André Rieu. But I'll never forget a performance I heard once in the mid-1990s on World AIDS Day: nothing but a tenor and a piano. The singer, the pianist and about half the men in the audience had watched all or most of their beautiful friends die. In that room, in that context, it was devastating.



Of course, Mother Nature doesn't give two hoots about poetic justice. Well into fall, the dang rose sent up two new shoots and each produced a bud, which meant Exhibit A was at best The Penultimate Rose of Summer. Who's going to set that to music? Nobody, that's who.

When the late arrivals hadn't opened by the time I left for England, I figured frost would get them. Nope. They just got bigger and fatter and then, on Thanksgiving Day: pop.

Second Rose

As dear Edmund Waller wrote, "Go, lovely rose! Dude! Right on!"

*Also, I was the wrong color. Everybody on The Victory Garden was white, in that purebred luminescent way that only old-style Bostonians can be white. The show's sole nod to ethnic diversity, as I recall, was a presenter whose last name was Shimizu, and even she was blonde.

**Rolling On the Floor Clutching My Mourning Brooch and Sobbing.

84 comments:

ccr in MA said...

Ahh, lovely. Just what I needed this cold northern day.

Evelyn said...

Love you, love your rose.

Lily said...

The Panopticon brightens my day every time.

But, um, Twilight slash? I was happier in a world where I had never imagined that.

Linda said...

Breathing out, slowly. Such a gift, this particular post. Thank you; I'll be sending it on to a few cultured, caring acquaintances.

Diana said...

I heard Irish tenor John McDermott sing "The Last Rose of Summer" right after his mother, Hope, passed away. It was devastatingly beautiful. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TMzIRwmM4I

The poem was by Thomas Moore in 1805, and set to music by Sir John Stevenson.

Mrs. Spit said...

Ahh. You see, I kill African Violets, I have a tremendous green thumb, and I kill African Violets. Actually, I think it might be worse. I think they might commit suicide, as soon as they realize they are in my presence.

Beautiful rose (although, this Norther woman cannot fathom a rose blooming on the prairie at the end of November)

monica said...

Oh my goodness, your rose is beautiful! Good job :)

Kate said...

Imagine how cheery it is to share your birthday with World AIDS Day. And to live in Michigan, with a 97.5% chance of blizzard on the same. But today was beautiful, and maybe we won't always need to have an AIDS awareness day. Beautiful rose.

Sandy said...

It looks very much like a rose I own called "Jude the Obscure". No. I'm not making it up.

http://www.heirloomroses.com/cgi-bin/browse.cgi?page=item&item=227&cat=12&fullsize=1

EJ said...

wow. simply beautiful!

my first garden was 80 sq ft in front of the park slope brownstone where i lived on the third floor. schlepped everything up and down the stairs to work in the garden - the first year i had 5 roses and then added five more the next year - i still miss my gorgeous new dawn (it was five when i bought it and grew about 20 ft each year so that i had to keep pruning it).

my current garden is the backyard of my rental apt (fourplex building) its my secret garden (see my garden blog for the whole story sogalitno.typepad.com) created from rubbish and wilderness.

landlord thinks i am crazy but you and other gardeners know that, well, maybe we are... but a special kind of crazy.

please post more photos of your garden!

M-H said...

Lovely post. We've just bought a new rose; there's nothing quite like watching those buds open. We have several little ones and now one standard one in a small bed.

::shameless namedrop:: When she's in Sydney (not often these days) Dame Joan lives in an apartment below my partner Sandra's cousin Pam. So Pam and her family get to hear Dame J. rehearsing and practising every day. I guess having her for a neighbour might make up for not having a garden, just a bit.

Jody said...

I used to garden for a living - it's not what its cracked up to be unless you love an aching back and repeated bouts of lymes disease! I did get to rub knuckles with some stars though, who had a particular fondness for perennial gardens, albeit the weekend variety.
As far as I'm concerned - you have more star power than most (and I've met you - in Rhinebeck at your book signing!). As always, your blog inspires and brightens my day! MORE!

Anita said...

Gosh you make me laugh!

GinkgoKnits said...

Is it a climber? The Lady Hillingdon at my home is one of the hardiest roses I've ever seen. It's always wonderful how flowers can surprise you.

mrsfife said...

That's my favourite colour for a rose. Lovely.

Also, the word verification says "Saymond".

junior_goddess said...

Ah. Gertrude is an old school rose-with heart. I fell into 'rosing' 10 years ago, when I was in a particularly sad situation. I fussed over the plants. They were a lot of work. And then moles wrecked the rosebeds.

Now, I get easy plants, like Mutablis and Knockout. Because I don't want to have to work for my blooms.

And speaking of Jenny Shimizu (as a blonde? REALLY?) you might like this-
http://www.towleroad.com/2009/11/activist-of-the-day-chris-pesto.html

Anonymous said...

I had one like that a couple of years ago. The prev prev owners had planted it, then the prev owners let trees grow up around it and shade it out. I noticed it after living here 4 years, dug it up, nurtured it over a winter and planted it in the front yard. It is stunning. (sniffle)

gma said...

Thank you, Franklin for the post and for the clip of Dame Joan, and for reminding people of World Aid's Day.

Alwen said...

"Rolling On the Floor Clutching My Mourning Brooch and Sobbing."

Hair jewelry must be involved in some way.

knitterwifemom said...

The rose is beautiful! I never have much luck with roses (or many plants, for that matter!) However, I am willing to bet the reason the rose did so well at it's first location was due to the disgruntled baseball fans. Urine is a great source of nitrogen, potassium and phosphorous, much like commercial fertilizer!

Kathryn said...

Somehow, that seems just about perfect. Happy Thanksgiving!

Carriellen said...

OMG. I am so emotionally invested in this rose now! Can't you dig it up and take it home and put it in a lovely pot and keep it safe from the elements?

Ivy said...

I giggled at this, because African violets are the one plant I can actually grow. I'm horrible with plants--I neglect them, and over or under water, and I'm never sure which. But my African violet? Lives on where all others perish. I've had some qualified success with an aloe plant as well. And basil on the patio, but I think my neighbors were secretly caring for that one. I really should work on this...

Anonymous said...

just two days ago looked at a house to rent. some fool had planted a dog yard electric fence right smack on the middle of a runty little rose bush. it just might be a sign. plus; your story is a direct dharma for bloom where you are planted.

marie in florida

Red said...

Roses are like Knitting. It can be as easy or as hard as you want. There are roses like garter stitch blankets in Cascade 220, or cable sweaters in Malabrigo, or dainty complicated lace and everything in between.

Mary said...

I've been baby-ing two century-old rose-bushes-that-my-philistine-sister-used-her-car-to-yank-out-by-their-roots all summer.

I know their backstory-- how the lady who planted them lost her mother when she was 8 and took care of her family and her mother's roses, and how, when she married, she planted cuttings from her mother's roses in her yard. All my sister cared about was that these 12 foot high mutant rose bushes were grabbing her 3 year old and holding her hostage every time they went to the car.

Now they're in my yard. Dead looking sticks... but in the middle of August, they suddenly sprouted leaves. I didn't get any roses this year, but I'm encouraged for next year.

Good Luck with yours!

Anonymous said...

My inlaws were AFrican violet royalty, hybridized over 200 varieties and owned and operated Tinari Greenhouses outside of Philadelphia for over 30 yrs. It is now owned by my brother in law. African violets, or st paulia ionantha can be tricky to grow, but even the violet people think rose people have it harder. Your rose is abso-bloomin-lutely "bee-you-tee-ful" as they say in Philadelphia.

Emily said...

"...living in Boston and working for starvation wages at a rather grim college for musicians..."

OK: I have to know. What grim college? Teaching what? I'm a musician from Boston, went thru NEC Prep; my father taught there & later headed the music dept at BU. (The rose story is wonderful, by the bye!)

sgt_majorette said...

Yeah, so the first delicate yellow bud fooled ya.

That big ol' cabbage rose (lovely on forties upholstery) is a tough beeyotch, a Rosa ghettoensis if you will. Or even if you won't. This Rose will eat roaches and outlive you. This is the kind of rose that eats abandoned brownstones and wrestles the dreaded ailanthus to the ground.

I have seen this happen. It's life-affirming, but a little scary...

Sarah said...

I laughed so hard at the explaination of ROFCMMBS I nearly put my neck out!

Lynn said...

Well, I guess global warming is good for something after all - that's a beautiful rose!

Anonymous said...

Well, I can see why Dame Sutherland is so popular. Look at her work those lungs!

I too hope there will come a time we do not need a World Aids Day. Rose posts would continue on unabated, I am sure.

Leah

=Tamar said...

The rose is beautiful.

firefly said...

When I started gardening I swore I would not have roses because they required too much fussing.

I now have 11 of them, 7 natives (single-petaled blooms) and 4 hybrids that are tough as nails. And? No fussing.

The Carefree Beauty roses hung tough almost to Thanksgiving with a last bloom (zone 5 in coastal Maine).

As for windowboxes, I got my start with houseplants and then containers on a balcony 15 years ago. If it feels like gardening, it most definitely is.

Given the way you knit, I'm not at all surprised the rose responded.

nosenabook said...

Oh, Franklin, what photography! Take that, Gertrude!

As for the song, it's a good thing you wrote it out for me as I would never have deciphered her enunciation, no matter how much I love those rrrrrr's. It reminded me of several of my favorite hymns, no doubt written about the same time. (We did eventually persuade the church pianist to speed up.)

The more I learn about gardening, the less sorry I am about throwing out my copy of The Victory Gardener.

NeoYankee said...

Thank you for the explication on ROFCMMBS - I was totally going with "Rolling On Floor, Crying My Man-Bits Soggy". Glad to know I was wrong.

Sandy said...

Very nice rose, Franklin. (In college I killed *two* spider plants and those are supposed to be able to survive anything.)

Kristen said...

Atta girl Rosie!

Shannon said...

I love your rose. I have a few rose bushes in my yard and I love them. I'll tell you what my Mom told me about roses, "Roses are like weeds, you can't kill them." So far, all of mine are still alive.

Spinneret said...

Stunning. Yellow/orange/buff roses frequently have Noisette type in their background which does not lend towards hardiness in the least. You've got a tough one there. Very well done.

Jessica said...

Oh, my. I study Victorian literature for a living (ahh, academia), and ROFCMMBS is the funniest thing I've read since my last Trollope novel.

Necia said...

My father used to sing "the last rose of summer," almost always in the fall when we were tending the beds. My mother is an avid rose fancier-- mostly old-fashioned roses from some place in CT, and moss roses and the like. Thanks for the memories. May he rest in peace.

Rabbitch said...

I do so love you, and your roses.

SusieQ100 said...

What a beautiful rose. I only hope that it's not yellow because of all the Chicago Cubs fans peeing on it!! Don't get too close to give it a sniff!! lo

Jenni said...

Beautiful post, rose, etc. Just discovered a blooming rose bush on my campus - little pink blossoms trying to eke out an existence before the snow flies. Of course, they are growing right across from Cyclotron, so who knows - they might be aliens waiting to invade.

Bullwinkle said...

Welcome to the world of gardening! Lovely story - excellent rose.

(As a Bostonian growing up with the Victory Garden, I laughed out loud at calling it "white".)

Seanna Lea said...

Now I want to try my hand at setting the Penultimate Rose of Summer to music. I'm good at butchering perfectly good songs, so I wonder what trauma I can inflict with this!

FiberQat said...

That is one tough rose. Hooray for you for giving it a better place. What a lovely reward.

Martha0051 said...

I think I know how you feel. I have an iris (I'm not skilled enough for roses) blooming in my Central Ohio garden, and I'm really excited.

Susan said...

Gorgeous rose! Well done for saving a street urchin plant... perhaps the horticultural version of Oliver Twist or some other classic of the genre? Just wait until the winter is over - she'll have quite a year. Please keep us posted on her survival.

As for Victory Garden - what say you about the new host? The Australian one - he's a bit more tanned and kind of Californian in his approach. Sometimes, I kind of miss the old-timeness of the older shows. But he is easy on the eyes and seems to know what he's talking about...

Anonymous said...

Ah, Dame Joan and beautiful roses in the same post...you find such nice things to write about. We miss you when you aren't blogging, Franklin.
Cheryl

Benita said...

Wow! What a wonderful story of the will to live!

Mulch it down very well and it'll give you lots of pretty roses next summer - if you can keep the drunk baseball fans from watering it.

kristy said...

That rose was gorgeous and I shed some tears,remembering some friends who died of aids , Such a loss!,sigh
thankyou for the poem your neighbor to the north.
Kris

Lee said...

Holly Shimizu is not a Bostonian but is from Chestnut Hill, PA. Her husband,Osamu Shimizu, is from Japan. Holly is currently the executive director of the U.S. Botanic Garden.

The verification says "procant" but I am generally anti-cant.

Patti said...

roses... with so little care they will reward you with the most beautiful blossoms. Might I suggest a little rose food scratched into the roots in the early spring and a good whacking (if you haven't already done so?)

I love my roses most of the time. :-)

Beth Vincelette said...

I once had an amaryllis that bloomed twice a year, each time fairly spectacularly. But roses are so much more fickle, and that is why your rose is so very special. I hope you enjoy it to the fullest.

Cathy said...

Berklee? Was this the Berklee faculty et al that you were wanting to off? WOW, you could have saved me a fortune in my daughter's tuition!

Beautiful rose! It is snowing like crazy right now in Madison...I hope you covered it!

Marsha said...

Oh, thank you, Franklin. Heartbreakingly lovely, both rose and song. What a treat to hear and see the young Joan Sutherland, and with Gerald Moore at the piano, too!

Janet said...

Check out the BBC for a very interesting programme shown recently about women and horticulture since Victorian times.

Liz said...

Wow - that's a late-flowering rose! And pretty... vive Marie Stuart!

I'd like to join the indestructible-African-violet-is-a-myth tendency. My record for killing one is three days, but that was the one I knocked off the windowsill into a sinkful of very hot washing-up-water...

haricot vert said...

I recently killed an african violet. *sadness*

alala said...

I love that song. And I will love you forever for "ROFCMMBS."

mildawg said...

Thank you for sharing your rose. Lovely :)

Slip, Knit... Meditate said...

How about the poem from Robert Burns?
My love is like a Red, Red Rose

My love is like a red red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
My love is like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

So fair (are you) art thou, my (beautiful darling, sweetheart) bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love (you) thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas (gone) gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And (farewell to you) fare thee weel, my only love
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my love,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

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rpinME said...

A surprising season of roses--I live in central Maine & my Heritage (David Austin, own root) rosebush is still blooming, today in the snow.

Happy to see your lovely yellow rose flourishing under your care!

ellen said...

Feed your rose banana peels and tea bags and it will reward you by growing into a huge and terrifying (but blooming) monster who will reward you by shredding the skin right off you when you wade in to prune it. No, I'm not bitter. There's a reason why the roses are so often still blooming long after the old homestead is gone.

Eileen said...

We bought a house last year, and this year I had my first garden. I never thought I would love it so much.

The roses, though...I think they want more sun. DH planted them rather close to the house. Might have to transplant them!

Thanks for the post, and the exquisite photos.

lulubelle said...

Oh, Franklin...what a lovely post. The video of Joan Sutherland, the rose, remembering so many glorious loved ones...it makes me teary, happy and sad all at once.

. . . Lisa and Robb . . . said...

Franklin, do you know the play (not the film) of The Mystery of Irma Vep? Brilliant quick-change drag melodrama, by the incomparable Charles Ludlam?

At one point, and apparently, for no reason, Lady Enid and her maid, both play "The Last Rose of Summer" in zithers.

I can't think of that song in a way that doesn't involve the campiest drag comedy.

Penelope said...

You're a hoot! What a cough drop. Thank you for brightening up the world. Would your rose be one of David Austen's?

Tan said...

What do you mean, Charlotte Church? She isn't still around, is she? I thought she had given up singing and was working in a grocery store somewhere, or was married and having children, or was making porn movies or something. There had better not be an new Charlotte Church CD out that I don't know about that I haven't been able to actively boycott.

AllWittyKnitty said...

True true... "Last Rose of Summer" and "A Bit of Earth" always go together for me on death and horticulture - "...she'll learn to love the tender roses, lilies fair, the iris tall, and then in fall her bit of earth will freeze and kill them all..."

It's not looking good for the flowers here.

send flowers to Philippines said...

this is so adorable flower i like it so much,keep posting!

vee

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