My garden is a riot of activity at the moment, with honeybees, bumblebees, skippers and pollinators of all kinds swarming over the exuberant asters and rampant perilla mint. All that frantic action almost obscures what is missing—the big butterflies, like monarchs and swallowtails, which floated through the garden every day in the summer. They are gone for the season and only the white cabbage butterflies are left.
Also missing in action are the scores of roses that have appeared in fits and starts since May. The bushes haven’t stopped producing; they are just slowing down, their energy spent by a growing season’s worth of effort. If Nature cooperates and keeps hard frosts at bay, the bushes will continue on in this way for quite awhile—sometimes through Thanksgiving. I hope for that, but also know the USDA says the “first frost date” for this area is October 15. The tightly furled buds on some of the bushes may well be the last roses of the year.
The flip side of all this finality is that the Japanese beetles that generally plague the beds in July are also gone. Aphids are less common too. They will be back in droves next year, but for now, I don’t have to pick them off the flowers or blast them off the stems with stiff sprays from the hose. The elimination of those chores might give me more time to enjoy the late blooms, though I am frequently too busy cutting back all the rampant end-of-summer growth to appreciate that freedom.
The roses are more jewel-like now. This may be due to the fact that they are less numerous, or possibly because of the unique qualities of autumn light. Whatever the reason, they glow. Sometimes the petal colors change too, either because of the shorter days or cooler temperatures. The flowers on the pink ‘Gruss an Aachen’ shrub rose, which have peach overtones in spring and summer, now appear silvery pink. ‘Scentimental’, red and white-striped at all times, is now more red than white. Some of the deep yellow blooms seem closer to rich cream.
It is as if all the gaudiness of summer has been thrown off in favor of a more restrained, elegant attitude. Maybe the effort of competing with a bubblegum pink aster is just too much to bear.
Certain varieties seem to flourish better than others in the late season bloom sweepstakes.
The champion in my garden is an old shrub rose that is probably ‘Marie Pavié. It is about four feet tall, and also supports the white-flowered clematis, ‘Duchess of Edinburgh’, which is growing up through the rose canes. The flowers are relatively small—about two inches across—with a pink flush in bud. When fully opened, the blooms exude a lovely fragrance. ‘Marie Pavié’ is slow to start in the spring, but once it gets going, it does not quit until real cold sets in. Right now, it boasts scores of blossoms, with new buds forming every day. I keep a small bouquet of them on my desk as a reminder to stay upbeat whatever the challenges of the day.
‘Sally Holmes’, is almost the opposite of ‘Marie Pavié’, but it shares the seasonal longevity trait. The big single blooms have only five white petals apiece, but they open like happy faces and keep smiling until at least October. ‘Sally’ has the added distinction of lasting longer in a vase than any other rose in the garden. This is important if you like indoor arrangements, and only have a few roses to choose from.
Right now, ‘The Fairy’ has only a few pink flowers, but I see a barrage of buds that are harbingers of blooms to come. ‘The Fairy’s’ pink color is not the bright pink of some of the asters, but it stands out anyway. I have deliberately excised the perilla mint that has threatened to engulf the little shrub. If the rose is making the effort to bloom vigorously as the days grow shorter, I will make the effort to give it some elbow room.
The ultimate act of hope in fall is the planting of spring-flowering bulbs. The ability to pick a few late roses as you finish all that digging is a great way to celebrate the here-and-now.