ROSES THAT CLIMB ARE ADAPTABLE 



SHERMAN DUFFY 



Conditions of Soil Mean Little to This Class, Wherefore 

 They Will Never Fail You If You Give Them a Fair Start 



\F 1 were about to start a garden absolutely new and 

 \- without a plant in it, 1 believe I'd start with a Rose! 

 ** And it should be a Climbing Rose — Climbing American 

 ?3^ Beaut)', 1 think, if 1 could lay hands upon one; for this 

 seems to be the most durable, weather-proof, sure-to-bloom, 

 big-blossoms-wafting-fragrance-all-about-its-locality of all — and 

 with a purer and better color than the famous cabbage-on-a-stick 

 from which it takes its name. There are to be sure some 

 two hundred odd things in the way of diseases and insects 

 that can happen to a Rose; and if some of these do not 

 transpire, it sometimes will just "up and die" for no apparent 

 reason ! 



Nevertheless, as 1 was saying, I'd start with a Rose — a 

 Climbing Rose. And the reason I would choose a Climbing Rose 

 is because these are sure to grow in any soil in which they are 

 placed, while other classes of Rose are by no means so certain. 

 I have broken out with the Rose fever time and again despite 

 hostile soil, struggled along for a season or so with Hybrid Teas 

 —which were seized with pernicious anaemia as soon as they 

 landed in said soil — only to give up at last; and then after a bit 

 be tempted beyond my strength, and start all over again! For 

 I have always wanted to grow Roses, but never have been fav- 

 ored with friendly soil. Consequently I always had poor re- 

 sults, until a curious chance set me going in the right direction 

 — that is, with Climbers. 



The chance was a bargain in steel ! I grabbed at a dairy-barn 

 fire-sale all that another bargain fiend didn't of steel hay-carrier 

 track and had it straightened and cut into lengths which made, 

 when set in concrete, sixteen eight-foot posts and six ten-foot 



BY WAY OF EVIDENCE 



It takes a little time, of course, really to clothe a frame with Climbing 

 Roses, and the first year's growth is but an earnest of things to come 



posts. 1 placed two at each end of five long narrow flower beds 

 running the length of my garden, the central bed having the 

 ten-foot posts. The two extra ones of these served for an en- 

 trance arch at the side. And there was the making of Rose 

 arches for which I had yearned many a year — in fact every time 

 1 had seen any — at a total cost of #12! (I never expect to dupli- 

 cate this bargain in steel, let me say right now.) 



It was reproductions of photographs in The Garden Maga- 

 zine that gave me the inspiration to switch from the Clematis 

 bower idea with which I had bought the steel posts, to Climbing 

 Roses — or at least turned my strong inclination to make one 

 more try at Roses into a resolve. For 1 had one Crimson Ram- 

 bler that had persistently hung on in a bone-dry situation under 

 the eaves, and another old-fashioned Prairie Queen that flour- 

 ished because nobody particularly cared whether it did or not 

 apparently. So, with pillars for twenty-two Roses, I already 

 had two! 



I promptly annexed the other twenty — ten pairs of Climbing 

 American Beauty, American Pillar, Aviateur Bleriot, Thousand 

 Beauties, Hiawatha, Excelsa, Christine Wright, Dorothy Per- 

 kins, Dr. W. Van Fleet, and Silver Moon. I bought two-year- 

 old plants — fine husky bushes cut back to about five feet — at 

 sixty cents apiece. [Happy days ! — Ed.] Every one grew, and all 

 gave a few blossoms the first season, so I had a chance to see 

 what they were like. And American Beauty with its big, 

 fragrant, rose-colored blooms, Dr. Van Fleet with delicate 

 pink "regular" Roses, and the big semi-double creamy-white 

 Silver Moon were my favorites of the lot at once. 



These Roses have averaged twelve foot canes a season, and 

 one of the Silver Moons reached eighteen feet. The least ram- 

 pant of the lot is Thousand Beauties and Dorothy Perkins is 

 the most ambitious. They did not make this luxuriant growth 

 unaided, however, by any means. The soil was in general a 

 light sandy terrain and none too good, though one end of the 

 garden is of fairly good texture. The other end is extra dry and 

 inclined to be clayey. I dug in a liberal supply of pulverized 

 sheep manure when they were planted, and after the buds showed 

 gave them liquid manure once a week until the last of August, 

 when it seemed desirable to ripen the growth rather than to 

 encourage any more. I alternated liquid hen manure with 

 sheep manure and an occasional balanced commercial liquid 

 fertilizer. They all responded nobly. 



Their first winter was a test and I went to the trouble of 

 laying down the canes and covering them. I have not done so 

 since. There were some disappointments when spring rolled 

 around. American Pillar was the worst. It made the sturdiest 

 canes, as thick as a finger and looking vigorous enough to with- 

 stand almost anything, but they killed back almost to the 

 ground. It still continues to be disappointing to some degree, 

 although it retains enough wood to give a fine show of its great 

 clusters of single, wild-rose-pink white-centred blooms. I have 

 an idea that it has not properly ripened its wood, as it seems 

 later in making canes than some of the others. In this trying 

 climate of northern Illinois where even the ubiquitous Dorothy 

 Perkins and the omnipresent Crimson Rambler kill back, 

 Climbing American Beauty is the one Rose that always comes 

 through in fine style and I certainly am strong for it. Aviateur 

 Bleriot has the finest foliage of the lot — waxy, dark green, with 

 clusters of medium sized buff buds that open to creamy little 

 double Roses. It has a tea scent, and is inclined to be tender 

 unless the wood is thoroughly ripened. 



120 



