Stop and Smell the... Golden Showers?
I hesitate this time of year to stroll through the recently restored Kelleher Rose Garden at dusk alone. Not because it's dangerous. But because it couldn't be a more perfect place for lovers, and you want to leave it to them. But yesterday evening I simply could not resist. The roses in the Victory Gardens have been glorious as of late, so I knew I was in for a show...
I know some of you are wondering about the title of this post, and I probably owe you an apology for leading you on. No, alas, I was not set upon by a band of Tom of Finland clones in town for Pride who had just downed a six-pack of Coors Light each and stumbled into the Kelleher Rose Garden to unload.
For those of you unfamiliar with the vast — seemingly infinite — varieties of roses, "Golden Showers" is a much beloved climber that first appeared on the scene in the mid-fifties (I wouldn't Google it if I were you, especially if you're at work — you'd be better to just take my word for it).
There are lots of interesting varieties aside from "Golden Showers" in the Kelleher Rose Garden. "Playgirl," "Sexy Rexy," "Love Potion" and, uh, "Julia Child" among them. Those Rosarians are a salty lot, let me tell you.
Oh, and, yes, I did come across several lovers tucked away in the hedges, and did my best not to disturb them, although I found myself singing that old Neil Young song to myself as I strolled past...
For those of you unfamiliar with the vast — seemingly infinite — varieties of roses, "Golden Showers" is a much beloved climber that first appeared on the scene in the mid-fifties (I wouldn't Google it if I were you, especially if you're at work — you'd be better to just take my word for it).
There are lots of interesting varieties aside from "Golden Showers" in the Kelleher Rose Garden. "Playgirl," "Sexy Rexy," "Love Potion" and, uh, "Julia Child" among them. Those Rosarians are a salty lot, let me tell you.
Oh, and, yes, I did come across several lovers tucked away in the hedges, and did my best not to disturb them, although I found myself singing that old Neil Young song to myself as I strolled past...
Love is a rose
But you better not pick it
It only grows when it's on the vine.
A handful of thorns and
You'll know you've missed it
You lose your love
when you say the word "mine".
Ah, a post that mentions my mother's favorite rose. She's had one since the 1950s, I believe, in her garden. Faithfully does it bear showers of golden roses. Amusingly, though my partner knows my mother's a rosarian, he was nonplussed when she recently drew him outside to note "the exceptional profusion of my "Golden Showers". Needless to say, you can well imagine the query I got after we departed!
Still, all in all, it's a lovely and prolific rose.
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