I have always had an aversion to spraying pesticides, herbicides, or anything ending with “-cides,” partly out of laziness, partly out of ignorance, but largely out of fear. There was also the example of my mother’s garden, flourishing and feeding us without chemical help.
When I planted the white Rosa Rugosa “Sir Thomas Lipton” in 1996 - gasp! - can this be right? - I hoped it would mitigate the boring two-story east wall of the house. I trained it, clipping and tying the long stems to a purchased iron trellis. I think it looks a bit silly now, out of scale and style with the rest of the place, but it seemed perfect then. I planted common Clematis “Jackmanii” with it to twine its way through the rose canes and mingle its purple flowers with the white roses. Mrs. Paepcke had a wonderful one that romped over a wall near a gate. Mine has not romped, it straggles. The rose has never fulfilled my optimistic anticipation either; it is neither vigorous nor floriferous and the buds attract aphids. The pair of plants rarely even blooms in sync, and I contemplate replacing them, but when I do get flowers, well! The late garden writer Henry Mitchell said the “Sir Thomas Lipton” flower looks like a white camellia with a superb fragrance. Not too many camellias hereabouts, but I’m sure you get the picture. About the clematis, he said, “No need to be heartsick” if you don’t have any of the rare and fancy kinds since “the garden effect of such old kinds as ‘Jackmanii’ is fine enough.” So I give them another reprieve.
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