THIS is what the Rose Adventure is all about...

Swoon.
...silent awe...

...mmmmmm...

Pat Austin, with it's blushed, cupped petals, is a glorious rose. I knelt by the planter and drew in a long, slow breath of the heavenly fragrance this morning. NO rose I have ever received in a bouquet ever smelled like this one. Never. The Creator of the Universe surely gave us a glimpse of heavenly splendor when he created and scented the roses.

I'm finding out more about rose fragrance. Describing rose fragrance is as complicated as wine tasting, with all the "undertones", "overtones", and "background notes".

According to Roses for Dummies, only 20 percent are intensely fragrant while 25 percent have no fragrance at all. I found out that a series of genes is responsible for the fragrance in a rose, thus the complexity. Various chemical groups are associated with different scents, including aromatic alcohols, aldehydes, carbonic acid, essential oils, resins and phenols. The genetics of scent is quite unpredictable which means crossing one fragrant rose species with another might make a rose with no fragrance. Add to that the complication of how individuals perceive scent. No wonder there's such a buzz in the rose world when a new fragrant rose is developed.

Chapter 5 of David Austin's The English Roses is all about fragrance. According to David Austin, "Rose breeders, over the years, have tended to ignore fragrance in their breeding programmes. This is because people seldom buy a rose for its fragrance; they nearly always have the appearance of the flower in mind when they are making their choice." That's really silly because people make such a to-do over rose scented perfumes, toiletries etc. Do we not want to acknowledge where the scent comes from? Is rose perfume less mysterious when we know where it comes from? I guess I'm a minority because I bought my 15 rose bushes almost entirely on scent alone. I do plan on stopping frequently to smell the roses. I'm hoping to have enough roses to cut and give others a chance to smell them too.

In reading descriptions of rose fragrance, I found terms such as "spicy" - more along the lines of cinnamon and cloves, and "tea" - literally like tea leaves. The English Roses covers yet more:
"Myrrh" - sweet anise, prominent in Ayrshire roses
"Fruit Fragrance" - apples, peaches, berries, and citrus to name just a few
"Myriad Fragrances" - Lily of the Valley, Lilac, wine, honey etc.
"Musk" - a secretion of a Himalayan musk deer.... deer?

DEER????

Ok, I had to quickly pass that musk section in the book because I did not want to equate any rose on my property with any redeeming quality whatsoever associated with deer, even exotic Himalayan types. I'm going to watch closely to see if deer are more attracted to musk-scented roses. I suppose it's ok if the deer stop and smell them so long as they don't eat them.

I went out to the deck to smell the Pat Austin rose at least two dozen times today. And I'll have to confess that I cried this morning when I smelled this very first bloom from my Rose Adventure. Far away, several states away, 500 miles away, lives the source of all my gardening inspiration. I miss her laugh, her encouragement, her tears. I miss my mom.

How could I have thought that 15 David Austin English Rose bushes would be a worthy substitute for my mom? I bought them on impulse on her birthday one cold January day of this year. But I realize now that 15 isn't enough. I'd have to plant a thousand rose bushes to even come close to the scent left by her life. I would have to grow a thousand exquisite orchids to give just a hint of her originality and creativity. I would have to buy a thousand tulips to portray her strength and a thousand cascading petunias to demonstrate her shower of affection and love on every person she meets.

As I looked at the petals through my blurred tears, I finally realized that what my mom planted was far bigger than the gardens in her backyard. Everything my mom loved - roses, gardening and all people, now lies within my own reach. What my mom planted will be passed on. If I, an extreme novice gardener who can't seem to grow anything or fit in anywhere, can grow a rose, surely I can reach out to others and leave a sweet scent in their lives. Like my mom so beautifully does.

Well now, how can I garden while bawling my eyes out? My mom would say "Get over it, Julie!" and then we'd laugh up a storm. So by golly, I'm determined to beat the deer, build a patio, plant heaps and heaps of stuff that I don't even know the names of and put in a hedge maze. One plant at a time. And who knows, maybe I'll figure out a moat too.