And so to continue from where I left off…sorry to leave you hanging for two weeks: my head has been in so many other spaces I need to re-immerse in the tale myself! The field, funnily enough, has not been top of mind…having got it all tucked up for the spring that’s now upon us, but it is about to be…it’s about to be all-absorbing!
I hope that part one of this tale left you with an understanding of the significant role soil plays in my mind; but there was one last strand that I ran out of time (and space!) to relay and that is the topic of rock. Of which you now know, a great deal lay under the Field of Flowers. I explained in part one how distraught I was at interfering so grossly with the soil; but to so rudely dislodge that amount of rock didn’t sit well with me at all.
Over the years I’ve come to learn just how integral all the parts of geology, plants, roots, creatures and micro-organisms are to each other, creating threads of communication that support and balance each other. I have no intention though, of pretending to be remotely articulate in this space and refer you to others who are; most particularly to that wonderful book written by Matthew Evans, simply called Soil. Even if you’re not a gardener or farmer, I’m sure you eat…and encourage you, if you haven’t already, to pick up a copy and immerse yourself - Matthew has written every chapter in the most down to earth manner and it’s a thoroughly engaging read - no science degree required! Of course I also refer you to the extended work of The Land Gardeners who work with such a widespread community of soil experts across the world: their real work comes with a bounty of beauty, a real feast for the eyes (so once again, if you think the topic of soil in itself is not engaging, seek them out and you will be pleasantly surprised!). I was thrilled to have Bridget and Henrietta here for a wonderful interactive conversation last year. It matters not that they’re based in the UK - their reach and experts from who they seek knowledge are spread far and wide; amongst their own soil gurus Rhonda Daly, who lives and farms on the South Western Slopes of NSW. The girls couldn’t wait to visit Rhonda on their antipodean tour to seek her expertise, amongst other Australian visionaries last year.
But back to the rock that was so rudely dislodged. It sat for many months…maybe even a year as we wondered what on earth to do with it all. And then Col was back here for what has pretty much become an annual few days, when he carries out the kind of paddock work that is beyond Larry’s capability. Funnily enough, we’ve long called him Capability Col…he has a way with the lay of the land, and in cahoots with Larry over the years, has deftly shaped some areas that needed help, and he and Larry both, have a thing about rock. Between them, they’ve subtly placed quite a number of large pieces of stone around and about the place, so whether you stumble across one on the flat or see one standing proud, discovering one is like finding an old friend. I leave them to their rocks and stones - boys need to have fun and on this score, I trust them both.
Whilst there were scars on the landscape for some considerable months after this monstrous job lit their imaginations, the rain we enjoyed during those few years soon healed the wounds; and although it took awhile…the ring of rock they made, has settled well into the landscape. Beyond the field, nestled into the native trees that drift from the creek below in undulating waves into the edge of our riparian zone; the ‘ring’ looks as if it was well planned way before our time. The rocks have smoothed, are covered in lichen; the native grasses come up to their very edge edge and…well, I’ll leave talking more about the ring of rock for another time or I’ll be bogged down here for hours to come! (For something so simple, like the field itself, the two have become integral parts of the whole).
But it’s not only the boys who have a thing for rock. As I found myself recounting for some obscure reason the day our little group stood with Cade McConnell in the midst of the ring at that delicious cooking workshop he ran here earlier this year (rocks too, are close to his heart), during the mooted poetry session, a particular recollection popped into my head that I’d long forgotten: the playground of my earliest school years just happened to have a low sandstone wall, atop which there were many, many rough little sandstone rocks of varying size, and I would spend many a happy ‘lunchtime’ grinding them together - mixing different colours to make sand which I would then pocket to take home! Sure…I must have been an odd child…but it would seem all oddities are inclined to come full circle and this one is no different…
So back to the field, and the relevance of all this rock talk: one of my worst fears was that we’d separated the rock that had been there for millennia, from its soil. Then one day I realised that many small pieces of rock had got left behind during the great ‘ring’ making process and I began to gather them up, a few at a time. At the beginning, the rows were not well resolved (in fact the entire field is still a work in progress) and so I thought if I re-introduced rock to the end of each row, that over time it may settle and support the whole, setting up the threads of communication once again. Mad perhaps, but at least I’m trying. I still have a lot of rock gathering to do. There’s plenty of it - living with rocks and stones, I’ve come to realise they continuously rise to the surface - they’re really not something you can completely eradicate…so perhaps we haven’t upset the ecology as badly as I’d thought afterall.
So…now you have a pretty comprehensive understanding of the making of the field…perhaps we can move on to the planting! All the time the planning and making was going on, I was dreaming and researching, mulling and ruminating…afterall, I had six rows to fill with flowers!
There was never any question in my mind that Row One would be filled with the rose that was one of the first I ever planted here at Glenmore. After planting an ‘Albertine’ to scramble over the old Stables (which proved to be someone else altogether and had to be promptly eradicated!) the very next two roses I chose were Trigintipetala, the Rose of Kazanlak; and Ispahan. Both are Damasks and were chosen for purely romantic reasons…they came loaded with narrative - the former for its association with “distilling attar of rose” (at least that was the description given in one of my early rose-reading bibles, which was all the ‘hook’ I needed to swoon at the idea of growing her, but which I’ve more recently discovered is not an accurate description and in the coming posts I have so much to share on that note!); and the second…Ispahan…surely needs no further explanation - the word enough to conjure exotic visions of ancient culture and desert combined. That they are both ‘perfect pink flowers’ (at the beginning of my gardening journey I had this thing about discovering ppf’s - that I’ve never quite been able to let go!), alongside such information as: “the tradition of 1551 says that the Damask roses were brought to England from Damascus by the Crusaders at the end of the Holy Wars,” was so alluring to me, that it was right back at the beginning, that roses became so much more to me than a pretty flower: amongst the roses, I discovered, were potted histories from the world over - and like so many before me, I’d tumbled headlong into a completely beguiling and captivating realm.
(Quotes above and below are taken from a very favourite book that was my absolute rose bible in those early days: ‘Old-fashioned Roses for Australian Gardens’ by the late Heather Rumsey).
When it came to selecting roses for the field, I’d already done enough research into rosewater distillation to know that the first choice I’d made all those years ago, to plant R. damascena ‘Trigintipetala’, also known as the rose of Kazanlak or the Bulgarian rose, is the one traditionally used for the purpose (although I subsequently discovered the French tend to use R.Centifolia, but I’m positive it’s the same Damask rose used in Morocco, Oman and India ). But…of course the more you read, listen, converse…the more you don’t know! Another tantalising tale on this topic will be unfurling soon…which is why we’ll have so much fun ahead as spring hits her stride!
To produce rosewater in any great quantity, truly…I’d need to cover our entire 30 acres with roses! And certainly I would if I hoped to produce one droplet of precious essential oil. But neither of those are my intention. So one row? Well…you shall get to see the bounty and fun I’ve had (and it’s all about to happen again in the coming days…I am beside myself with anticipation!).
When it came to Row Two, aside from ensuring any rose I planted was visually arresting and highly perfumed, what I really hoped was to entice others to tumble into the joy of discovering the glorious history and narrative of the roses, and the capacity these shrubs have carried to enrich people’s lives throughout the centuries. I’m no rosarian or historian…but how I love to engage with the stories behind these captivating petals and I simply want to spread the joy of discovery.
At some point, it also occurred to me, that so very many peeps (and especially younger ones) are only familiar with modern and/or ‘David Austin’ roses which are the ones most readily available in the nurseries. And why should they not be? Perhaps you need to be a bit of a nutter to venture off the well-trod path and David Austin roses are wonderful: Row Three is filled with them! But more on that row is coming.
I did have such a time trying to decide just which roses to plant in Row Two! But I thought at least if I represent a handful of old-fashioned varieties, just enough to lure and pique interest, it might persuade peeps to search beyond those roses most readily available. I hatched a plan (which meant I had to leave so many others aside but I had to make a decision!)
That plan for Row Two became:
Three x Gallica, three x Alba, three x Centifolia, three Damask, three Bourbon. Having decided on the varieties…then I had to choose the roses themselves - what a challenge!
The Gallica Rose: “The species from which all our red and garden roses evolved, in its dwarf form it grew wild from France to Persia”. Swoon. “The Gallica rose gave people of earlier times medicine, perfume, conserves and decoration. Known as the Apothecary’s rose (R.gallica officinalis) it was grown in monastery gardens…” etc.
The Gallicas had to be my first choice for Row Two. It was the paragraph quoted above, once again from Heather Rumsey’s slim volume that instigated my deeper fascination with medieval and monastery gardens…which became an abiding love.
So…the Gallicas in Row Two are:
R. officinalis (the Apothecary’s rose) which to me, makes this specimen the most significant of all
Rosa Mundi R.gallica versicolour (you’ll think me idiotic but there was once a Colefax & Fowler chintz called Rosa Mundi with which I was completely besotted, splashed as it was with bouquets of overblown roses!). Whereas far more importantly, “she was said to be the rose of Fair Rosemund, the much-loved mistress of Henry II, who was poisoned by his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine”.
Why I chose…
Belle Isis as the third I can’t quite recall! I must have read something persuasive and all the time, likely size was part of the equation!
The Alba Rose: “Although considered a species rose for a long time, it was established in the late C19th that the Alba was in fact a cross between the red Gallica rose and a white-flowered, almost prickle-free Dog Rose, R. canina. A later theory is that the Damask rose R. damascena was the parent rather than Gallica…” (Heather Rumsey)
The Albas that follow the Gallicas in Row Two are:
Great Maidens Blush (had been on my list since gardens visited long ago and she dates to pre C15th - a good enough reason… but how funny…I’ve just this minute discovered she was introduced to this country by Camden Park in 1843!
Celeste, late 1700’s (sometimes the year is enough, alongside rafts of notes that fall out of all my books and fill my desk drawers!)
Koenigin von Danemark (if repeated on my lists often enough…for whatever reason…in this case, ‘strong fragrance’ is noted, it was enough to make the selection!
The Centifolia, Provence or Cabbage Rose: “flower of a hundred petals, it seems the epitome of the ‘old’ rose but is in fact a product of hybridisation of four wild species, R. Rubra, R. phoenicia, R. moschata, and R. canina, carried out by the Dutch growers between the late C16th and early C18th…by 1710 they had produced the ideal florist’s flower of the day”. (Heather Rumsey). And don’t we know it so well from all those glorious Dutch Master Still Life paintings? It is positively exquisite!
The Centifolias that follow the Albas in Row Two are:
Chapeau de Napoleon (I had to have at least one ‘Moss’ rose…and he does display that lovely green fuzz! “Moss roses are a sport of Centifolia and the first reference to the fragrant moss that covers flower stems and sepals is believed to have been in a Dutch grower’s catalogue about 1720”…so says Heather)
Bullata (had been on my list for so very long!)
Centifolia (the classic which lives up to its apt description of ‘globular’ blooms!
The Damask Rose: In addition to the line about their being brought from Damascus above…”botanists tend to argue as to whether they were original species or not, but general opinion has come down in favour of the theory of hybridisation of the red rose, R. rubra, with both the Phoenician and the Musk roses to give two distinct groups, the Summer Damask rose, R. damascena and the Autumn Damask rose, R. bifera.” (once again, quoted from Heather Rumsey).
The Damasks that follow the Centifolias in Row Two are:
Quatre Saisons (a very old rose from pre-Roman times, I recall once reading it was the rose from which all repeat flowering roses were bred…which may or may not be true!) I’ve grown her behind the Dairy for close to thirty years and she’s an alltime favourite
Ispahan (prior to 1832, and a PPF if ever there was!)
Blush Damask (only arrived last year…I’d hankered after having her here for so long but she’s yet to flower!)
The Bourbon Rose: “The original cross, Rose Edward, as it was known, was greatly improved upon by the French who increased the China gene so that flowering was continuous. The fact that the varieties mostly have French names shows how closely France was involved in their cultivation and hybridisation. “Souvenir de la Malmaison” is one of the best known Bourbon roses, reminding one of Empress Josephine who took so much interest in rose breeding and played such an active part in encouraging gardeners and botanists to push the horizons further, though sadly she missed so much by her death in 1814 and never even saw Redoute’s wonderful watercolours of the roses in her garden” abbreviated Heather Rumsey quote).
I chose not to include Souvenir de la Malmaison in the Field selection…I’ve grown her here with enormous fondness for years, though true to well-known expectation, she does ‘ball’ at the slightest hint of rain
The Bourbons that follow the Damasks in Row Two are:
Mme Isaac Pereire 1800 (yes the correct spelling..she is not Perrier mineral water!)
Honorine de Brabant 1800
Louise Odier 1851 (timely for the building of Glenmore House)
I have long adored the Bourbons and grown La Reine Victoria too, alongside Mme Isaac Pereire in Mrs R’s garden for as long as I can remember (both are flowering as I write). Up ‘til the field, I’ve alwaysthought Mme the most intoxicating rose of them all…but now she has some competition! Wouldn’t you just love to know who all these women were? One day I’ll spend longer researching them (how I wish I could be more thorough for you here!). But my ears pricked up one Sunday evening last year (back to ABC Classic radio once again!) when the name de Brabant was referenced in passing during the ‘God who Sings’ programme - we strive to be in bed by the time the bells toll at 10pm on Sundays and are thereafter lulled into sleep by the gentle voice of Stephen Watkins and his selection of mostly choral music!
So there we have Rows One and Two explained. As mentioned above, Row Three is completely devoted to those roses bred by David Austin. Seeking to breed “more beautiful roses” many have an old-fashioned shape and perfume too, but with repeat flowering characteristics. David Austin was a breeder whose roses swept the gardening world during the latter half of last century and quite rightly, continue to do so. He also sought to make them disease resistant, which is often not the case with the older varieties I’ve mentioned above. Of the roses I’ve mentioned so far, only the Bourbons are likely to repeat flower - the others flower in spring only, so their presence is fleeting. Was it a sensible idea to plant them in the field? Probably not! But in the name of romance, in wanting to keep their history alive and encourage others to seek out their stories (as well as their beauty), the first two rows are devoted entirely to them. From hereon in, the next rows are repeat flowering!
The David Austin roses that make up Row Three are (and there are three of each planted except for Evelyn):
Falstaff
Eglantyne
Gertrude Jekyll
Boscobel
Sceptr’d Isle
Jude the Obscure
Evelyn (just one!)
All are highly scented, beautiful, run the gamut of red through pink and apricot tones and all are worthy of plunging one’s nose in deep and inhaling ‘til you spin out! All of them I’d encountered one way or another, though I hold a special place for Eglantyne (having given her once to dear friends in England soon after she came into existence) and Gertrude…because I cannot tell you how often, when searching for the name of what appeared to be a PPF in an image in a book or magazine, or even in a garden, I discovered it to be her! The others I’ll tell you about in posts as they begin to unfurl their petals during the coming weeks.
Which brings us to Row Four - the last of the rows of roses. Whilst I had a list of all the varieties I’d neglected and was still hankering after Chinas, Teas, Musks, Portlands and Hybrid Perpetuals, I’m not so drawn to the Polyanthas…which are simply smothered in too many blooms for here! Although I was sorry to cross some absolute favourites from my list, I settled on filling Row Four with Rugosas. Why?
For several reasons! I’ve had tremendous success growing them in different parts of the garden here and adore their mostly dense, handsome shapes and crinkly leaves. Their flowers are simple somehow - although some are double, they’re not at all showy. They’re strong, resilient and not so susceptible to problems, as well as being very hardy and drought tolerant. For some reason, I don’t think we seem to use them in this country anywhere near enough, so I thought I’d make a point of dedicating an entire row to them, to bring them to the attention of peeps who may not be familiar with them. They are inclined to be thorny, which is not in their favour. It’s often said you don’t need to deadhead them…but I do! At least they’re inclined to flower in clusters, so you can deadhead an entire bunch in one go! I think that advice may work in Europe, where perhaps they have only one flowering in a shorter season…and left to their own devices, Rugosas produce glorious hips. But…if you do bother to deadhead those clusters, you will be rewarded in our climate with flowers throughout the entire growing season…from early spring into winter - so it’s only in the late autumn that I allow the hips to develop, meaning I have a bounty of petals in which to indulge and, like the David Austins in their neighbouring row…to contribute to Field of Flowers Workshops!
The Rugosas in Row Four are:
Roseraie de l’Hay (she’s the one providing such olfactory competition to my old favourite Bourbon Mme Isaac Pereire!)
Delicata
Scarbrosa
Martin Frobisher
Sarah Van Fleet (I’ve written about her at such length…truly she is the PPF!)
It’s taken quite a few years to plant them all! While I had my list drawn up before the Field was even made and got my orders in, one can never be absolutely sure they will arrive - especially where the old-fashioned varieties are concerned, as they require specialist growers to be devoted to growing them. And if the grower should have a ‘fail’ that year, then one must simply wait. Patience was required yet again…I had to garner all I could muster! My list couldn’t be completely fulfilled that first season, so another year went by for the next bare-root winter delivery. Whilst all the old roses came from Ross Roses (Andrew Ross was incredibly helpful and I’m most grateful for his patience and persistence in growing these varieties), most David Austins came from Wagners Nursery - both in South Australia and the roses I couldn’t source from either came from Green E Roses (who sell in pots all year long but not bare-rooted) in the Hills District near Sydney (I love a visit to Green E, whilst I was sooooo sorely tempted to get on a plane to SA at the time, I didn’t ever manage to do it!).
No doubt you’ll hear me refer to these roses as the posts unravel during the coming months. I’m inclined to refer to them by name - sitting as they are like a gathering of friends at a party down there in the field! There are many other books aside from Heather Rumsey’s (*whose is the only one I’ve quoted from here) that were instrumental in my rose learning over the years. None more so than Peter Beales ‘Roses’ which although has a soft cover, is encylopedic in weight and I bought a copy on our earliest garden-visiting-trip in the UK in the early 90’s and remember sitting with it on my knees, looking up roses and making notes as Larry drove us around, cramming in as many gardens between staying with friends as we could…from Sissinghurst to Hidcote; Tintinhull to Mottisfont and plenty of smaller gardens in between. It was on that trip that the friends to whom I later gave the Eglantyne rose, introduced me to the RHS Gardener’s Encyclopedia of Plants & Flowers: my gardening education and exploration had got beyond magazine articles and the earliest books that were then piled high on my bedside table (I’d read them under the covers once Clemmie was asleep in the cot at the foot of our bed!).
How I wish I was being more thorough for you here with the research…but then I’m not aiming for a doctorate! I just love to tempt peeps to explore beyond the fads and fashions of today…and I can see that roses have the capacity to lead us to a better understanding of our world; simply by joining the dots of their passage over time.
* I stayed with quotes from Heather Rumsey’s book for a number of reasons - one being simplicity! It was the first of the books specifically devoted to roses that I read and I hold it very dear. The rest of my notes are so scattered and books so numerous I’d be here all year! But most importantly…I wanted to use it as a tool to draw your attention to the Rumsey Rose Garden at Parramatta which I believe is little known. Named for Heather Rumsey who was a founding member of Heritage Roses in Australia, she requested her roses be gifted to a public park upon her passing. In NSW in particular, it’s not easy to be able to see old roses in the flesh, and thanks to Heather’s generous bequest, that garden contains the largest collection in one place in NSW that I’m aware of. When researching the Field and trying to make some final selections, I collected a garden-loving friend and we set off on a lovely little day adventure together to explore the Rumsey Garden that’s tucked in close to Old Government House at Parramatta. If you feel so inclined…it’s worth the trip! You might like to team it as we did, with a visit to that treasure of early colonial architecture and a favourite haunt of mine, Elizabeth Farm.
Row Five…contains the plants I refer to as the aromatics. The roses are a world unto themselves and though two of their rows have lavender as companions, they are otherwise treated in a quite utilitarian fashion, befitting the simple concept of the Field. But there were plants I needed to grow in quantity for the purpose of distillation and one in particular, the Rose Geranium Pelargonium capitatum ‘Attar of Rose’. (Let’s not get too bogged down in the nomenclature…I think most of you are not botanists or horticulturists, so let’s just call them geraniums!). Whilst many distil Pelargonium graveolens to capture Rose Geranium Water, I much prefer P. capitatum: where graveolens is harsh and coarse, capitatum is soft and gentle and I believe that’s true too, of its aroma. I know I’m not alone in this choice - either with gardeners or some fellow-distillers.
Rose geranium (or pelargonium!) aside, other plants in Row Five add olfactory delight as they make up the botanical material required for a Field of Flowers Workshop; whilst contributing their attributes too, to the vision and heady, olfactory atmosphere of the Field, (though one in particular…whose story I’ll keep for another time, is on my craving-to-distill-again list!)
The plants that make up Row Five, the ‘Aromatic Row’ are:
Pelargonium capitatum Attar of Rose
Salvia sclarea, clary sage
Artemisia absinthium, common wormwood
Helichrysum italicum, immortelle
Pelargonium odoratissimum, apple pelargonium
Thyme
Which brings us to the final row, Row Six…which has been the steepest learning curve of all, as from the very beginning of the Field planning, I designated the final row to consist of local, aromatic, indigenous plants. Therefore, on many levels it is the most significant row of them all. It’s the last serious planting I will ever carry out here (I’ve no intention whatsoever of expanding the garden further) and as such, given its position, it carries the weight if you like, of all that has gone before, as well as being the ‘connector’ to the creek vegetation, known as (fast disappearing due to Sydney’s expansion) ‘Western Sydney dry rainforest’. At the lowest point on our gradient…we rest on a continuous gentle slope (the highest point being the little road at the top which gradually descends to the creek below), Row Six marks the end point to our cultivation, which to me, is of enormous significance…not a token, or nod, but a meeting of cultures. Perhaps I’ll save this more esoteric explanation for another time because I’m out of space to do it justice here.
As indigenous plants are not my area of expertise, I went on an excursion to talk to our local expert Hannah Rebelo at the Wollondilly Shire Nursery. Hannah is pure joy - she is one of those sparkly humans with a wealth of knowledge and enthusiasm that knows no bounds and she took to my idea instantly! Bundling up a collection of likely contenders for my row, as well as thoughts on further research, I was excited to pop those tubestock specimens into the footwell of the passenger side of the car on that bright and sunny autumn day. I’d been talking to Hannah for such a long time, that the car had warmed to a toasty oven inside and as I opened the driver’s side door and stepped in, an overwhelming pungent aroma sent my head into a spin! In the short minute maybe…I’d taken off my jacket before getting in to drive…the heat had caused those tiny plants to release their odour and wowsers….I felt giddy…where was I? Had I just driven from the beach? I sat there with this stupid smile on my face before I could even put the key into the ignition…and that smile lasted all the way home - what a moment of literal transportation of the mind!
Whilst I planted the specimens Hannah gave me immediately, it took awhile to gather the rest. There was a trip to the Mount Annan Botanic Garden (not so far from here) and various correspondence with other peeps including Dr Peter Cuneo at the Botanic Garden who years before (2016) was kind to come here one spring Saturday to spend several hours walking the creek with me, notating the vegetation we encountered along the way. Although I’m still learning the habits of these plants, three years in, many are fully grown and have made the most enormous olfactory and visual contribution to the Field.
Row Six, the Indigenous Aromatics:
Kunzea ambigua
Leptospermum morisonii
Plectranthus parviflorus
Zieria smithii
Prostanthera Sieberi
Ozomanthus diosmifolius
Cassinia aculeata
Olearia viscidula
Geranium homeanum
Mentha satureiodes
On warm summer days, when the cicadas sing and the air is still, the atmosphere resonates with the intermingled aromas and perfumes from continents far and wide…there’s an aura, an almost pure, pulsating vibration, that I could never have predicted may occur when I first set out to make my Field of Flowers….
I’m imagining the perfume in every one of those six rows! And when I was reading about your rocks, immediately it came to mind when we were living on a property in a place called Kolora. I wanted to plant a vegetable garden, but first the volcanic rocks had to be removed, such a massive task as the nearby extinct volcano Mt Noorat had spewed out such a proliferation, and as with your rocks, they pretty much grew as fast as the plants, so an ongoing job getting them out of the way.