DISTANT DRUMS
The Sound of Music, a wonderful Rogers and Hammerstein musical, has a song in the first act called “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?” in which the Mother Abbess of an Austrian convent muses tunefully about how to deal with an errant postulant. As fans of the musical know, Maria, the postulant, goes off to become Maria, governess for the many children of the aristocratic Baron Georg von Trapp. Singing, life lessons and romance ensue and the problem of Maria is solved when she forsakes the convent life to become Frau Georg von Trapp.
If only real life worked out like that.
Now I stand in my garden and wonder how I can solve the problem of ‘Distant Drums,’ one of the loveliest of all roses. The problem with ‘Distant Drums’ has nothing to do with aphids, fertilizer or bloom time. It has everything to do with the fact that while no garden should be without this singularly beautiful rose, many gardens are languishing in that state for a single reason—it is impossible to describe the plant. With apologies to Gertrude Stein, a rose is not always a rose.
When it is out of bloom, ‘Distant Drums’ looks perfectly normal. Mine is about four feet tall and three feet wide with lots of glossy, dark green leaves. It is handsome in its upright habit and robust configuration. However, the key to its glory and indefinable allure is the flower color. The rose is classified as a “mauve blend,” which is, perhaps, praising the shrub with faint damns. Some vendors group it into an ambiguous category like “Roses of Unusual Color.” This is an apt yet meaningless description that places ‘Distant Drums’ in the company of the spidery green Rosa viridiflora and the yellow and orange awning-striped ‘Oranges and Lemons.’ ‘Distant Drums’ is much more voluptuous and beautiful than the former and leagues ahead of the latter on the elegance scale.
Words are inadequate to describe the color, but I will try. The buds are blushed with pink. When they are half open, you can see that the center petals are fawn-colored and the outer ones are shades of medium pink. In warmer weather, the fawn petals may have a peachy overtone—or they may not. When the blooms begin to age and open fully, the colors change—sometimes almost hourly. Ultimately the entire flower displays its final color—a delicate pale mauve. The rose blossoms are also large, usually with more than twenty petals apiece and have, as the rose fanciers say, “great substance.” Borne singly rather than in clusters, they are wonderful for arrangements.
To add to its already considerable charms, ‘Distant Drums’ is fragrant, with the characteristic myrrh or licorice scent that is evident in many of David Austin’s roses. It is no coincidence that one of ‘Distant Drum’s parent roses was Austin’s ‘The Yeoman,’ which is pink with orange/apricot overtones and a myrrh fragrance.
Pictures are almost as inadequate as words, since even the best photo reproduction does not usually do justice to the colors of the petals. I have not seen ‘Distant Drums’ in botanical gardens, though the Hershey public rose garden and the Denver Botanic Garden reportedly grow it. I would love to visit those gardens to see how differences in climate and soil affect the rose’s distinctive colors.
Griffith Buck—1915-1991–who bred ‘Distant Drums’ in Ames, Iowa, cultivated roses for beauty and extreme hardiness, but also experimented with unusual colors. His roses, ‘Blue Skies’ and ‘Silver Shadows,’ are gray to mauve/blue and sometimes have pink-toned petal edges. All seem to age to a similar pale mauve. If I can find a few empty corners, I may install them in my garden as well.
Unless the horticultural industry changes radically, you will probably never find ‘Distant Drums’ in a standard garden center or mass merchandiser. That is a real pity. Fortunately mail order can get you on the road to enjoying this wonderful rose in your home landscape. To obtain a plant, go to Rogue Valley Roses, (541) 535-1307, www.roguevalleyroses.com.