An English rose
In February I was given a yellow miniature rose in a basket. I nurtured it carefully and it grew beautiful new leaves and blossomed with many flowers. By early July it was sprawling over the window sill and I thought I'd plant it in the garden and cleared some mint to make a space for it in rather a busy flowerbed. Last night I went to have a look at it. My heart stopped: where was my rose? I looked again and I saw it. It was transformed. No longer was it a delicate shade of yellow: the flowers had changed to an orangey pink. Even the buds were pink! Is this a statement of protest or a testament to joy at being outside?
posted by Whispering Walls at 7:51 am
5 Comments:
"............
Pourtant j'étais très belle
Oui j'étais la plus belle
Des fleurs de ton jardin
..........."
Françoise Hardy's song "Mon amie la rose".
It sounds like a happy rose to me, WW.
Tres bien, ED! I don't know that song.
I hope it will survive the winter, WL. I probably should have planted it in a large pot so that I could bring it in to escape the frost.
It might just be a variety of the rose, 'Masquerade'. This changes colour, running the gamut from yellow to pinkish-red - and even sometimes retains some of each, becoming multi-coloured.
I remember it from close proximity to a keen (albeit amateur) rose expert years ago. It has probably changed since then, as these strains do.
You may be right, Phildelm, it's certainly become multi-coloured
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