As an image, in isolation, this does nothing for me. In the instant it takes to say 'Barbara Cartland' it scores nul points. It is Rosa Zéphirine Drouhin, a Bourbon rose, a gardener's favourite since 1868.In context, in my garden, emerging from behind the vast and arching silver cardoon and framed between two dark yews I think it will earn its keep. Get up close - and this a rose, which being virtually thornless, lets you do just that - and breathe in its intense perfume. Pink is a smell, soft, sweet and powdery. It hits the spot. It is a reason for living.
In this essentially visual medium I am at a loss to describe this flower's smell. To say that it is err, 'rose scented' is stating the bleedin' obvious. Of course it is. Were I a parfumier or wine taster I might pick up other references in its bouquet; subtle and complex associations, high, middle and base notes.
Instead I think less sophisticated thoughts. I think 'Turkish Delight' and 'Jelly Babies' - but they have taken their flavour from the rose and not the other way round of course. I have to agree with Edward Lear:
And if you voz to see my roziz
As is a boon to all men's noziz, -
You'd fall upon your back and scream -
'O Lawk! O criky! it's a dream!'
5 comments:
Loved the Lear! Smells are so evocative, and, for me, so hard to describe - you did well! I have loads of roses in my garden, only a few planted by me, yet, unfortunately, few are stongly scented.
I love 'old' roses - the modern ones may look good but they have no scent.
I used to live near to a big walled garden which had yellow, gorgeously-scented roses climbing over the wall to the street.
Thank you for your encouragement on my blog, Mountainear. Roses, well, what can I say. There is very little as intense and perfect and evocative as the scent of a rose on its stem. So very very English.
Mountainear, do you mind if I blogroll you?
Lizzie x
Lizzie, please do.
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