In February, it is appropriate to think about roses.
Here is what Gertrude Jekyll (1843-1932) wrote:
There is scarcely any rose that we can wish to have in our gardens that is not also delightful in the cut state. A china bowl filled with well-grown hybrid perpetuals, grand of color and sweetly scented, is a room decoration that can hardly be beaten both for beauty and for the pleasure it gives, whether in a sitting room, or on the breakfast table. The only weak point about cut roses is that their life is short.
William Fitzroy (1851-1924) wrote: “The houses I love best are those where warm old red bricks and old roses seem to melt into each other.”
Margaret Millfield in 1931 had this advice:
Plant your rose in a good square hole, keep it weeded; prune it once a year, thoroughly; apply a spade of manure in February and you will have blooms the rest of your life.
And John Boyle O’Reilly (1844-1909) wrote this verse:
The red rose whispers of passion, and the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon, and the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream- white rose bud, with a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is purist and sweetest, has a kiss of desire on the lips.
In February, it is appropriate to think about roses.
Here is what Gertrude Jekyll (1843-1932) wrote:
There is scarcely any rose that we can wish to have in our gardens that is not also delightful in the cut state. A china bowl filled with well-grown hybrid perpetuals, grand of color and sweetly scented, is a room decoration that can hardly be beaten both for beauty and for the pleasure it gives, whether in a sitting room, or on the breakfast table. The only weak point about cut roses is that their life is short.
William Fitzroy (1851-1924) wrote: “The houses I love best are those where warm old red bricks and old roses seem to melt into each other.”
Margaret Millfield in 1931 had this advice:
Plant your rose in a good square hole, keep it weeded; prune it once a year, thoroughly; apply a spade of manure in February and you will have blooms the rest of your life.
And John Boyle O’Reilly (1844-1909) wrote this verse: