My Father liked to grow roses.When I was still in my first decade we lived in the county of Surrey in England,there they said the sandy soil was particularly good for roses.
One of his favourites was a rambler that he grew from a cutting taken from a bush belonging to his Mother,there it transformed the small city garden into a mass of mauve.
The cutting grew and after a few years it was covering our high wooden fence.
Everybody commented on the colour.Nobody had seen such a rose bush,full of clusters of small, filled roses, varying in colour from mauve over violet to splatters of deep purple and blue.
We had to move to the west coast,so some of the rose was lifted and it came along too. It flourished there despite the stony soil. My parents moved twice again before they eventually
retired and went back south. With the rose of course.
When I married and settled in Switzerland they brought a piece of the root over for us.
It has been growing in our garden ever since.
I had never seen another one like it.Roses don’t grow well in Switzerland,but last summer we went to a gardeners near the German border, and there I saw it,
“Veilchen Blau” covering an old rusty arch.
It had apparently been bred by a German rose grower in 1909. How it came to be in my Grandmothers garden could possibly be an interesting story.
At Christmas we went over to Canada to visit our eldest daughter and her husband. Yesterday I spoke to them on the phone.
Guess what they had just planted in their garden.