I said I would return to the subject of roses grown up trees. 'Paul's Himalayan Musk' is currently in full bloom, so this seems the time. 'Paul's Himalayan Musk' is a rambler, with big clusters of small, soft pink flowers, normally coming out around the first week of June, but like most of the other roses it's early this year. It is gently scented, though the smell is rather overpowered by a honeysuckle nearby. The plant is extremely vigorous, and thorny.
The books are very precise in their instructions on how to grow roses up trees. We are told not to plant them too close to the trunk, where the ground will be very dry and rooty, but to plant them towards the edge of the canopy and lead them to the trunk along a cane or rope. I have seen an old anchor chain used for this purpose in a garden in St. Osyth, which seemed a clever bit of recycling in a coastal area, and made a very nice catenary curve. I don't mind that bit of the instructions. The bit that bugs me is the received wisdom that we should plant the rose on the downwind side of the tree, so that the prevailing wind will blow it into the crown.
'Paul's Himalayan Musk' is planted to the east of the wild gean it is supposed to be growing up, because that's where there was space for the roots. Prevailing winds in the UK are from the southwest, but if it had been to the southwest of the tree it would have been in the lawn. The sun rises in the east, moves round through the south, and sets in the west. The rose wants to reach out to the light, and this far outweighs any effect a bit of wind, or even the odd gale, has on its habit of growth. It sends great long tentacles of growth out to the south, the east, and anywhere except the dark interior of the tree. I really don't think the wind makes a smidgin of difference. In fact I don't think the rose is particularly interested in going up the tree. It would be perfectly happy just taking off across the lawn.
The effect of a large pink rose in a tree is pretty and extremely romantic, seen from a distance, as shown in these photos taken from the top lawn and the bottom lawn. Encountered close up it is less romantic, as anyone getting within a couple of metres of it is likely to be clawed by one of the tentacles, and they are rampaging through the collection of potted Hamamelis and the recycled metal secretary bird. When I looked out of the bathroom window this morning I had a moment of panic that the bird's head appeared to have fallen off, before realising that it had merely been engulfed by rose foliage. The exuberant new growth is blocking the steps between the top and bottom lawns, which in my book is a no-no. Good circulation is essential for any garden, besides which I need to get the hose up and down those steps.
After I'd taken the pictures, I twirled as many wandering stems as possible into the tree. A couple broke in the process, and some unstuck themselves again, but some will catch with their prickles and consent to grow into the cherry. There were a couple I couldn't reach, so I'll have a go at them later with a boathook we once bought in a second hand shop in a fit of retail excitement, and that now comes in useful for rose training. The stems I couldn't persuade to grow into the tree were cut off, so the steps are just passable. I'll take a bit more off once flowering has finished. The steps were quite clear at the end of winter, which shows how much growth a rambler rose makes in a couple of months.
I love roses up trees, but they do seem to take a bit more organising than you would guess, looking at the tidy diagrams in the books.
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