For most of my life, I couldn’t understand why people cultivated roses. As beautiful and fragrant as they are, why work with a plant that bears such a dangerous thorn? The rose seemed unfriendly to me. The previous owners of our home had planted several rose bushes around the backyard. Once we moved in, most of them died of a lethal combination of indifference and neglect. I put my attention instead on low maintenance, friendlier plants, those without thorns. I thought the rose was a diva, requiring special soil, special food, special care. Well, I was close to being right about the diva thing, but I have fallen in love with the rose and her magic.
A few years ago I suddenly found that I couldn’t pass by a beach rose without stopping to inhale her aroma and take in her voluptuous bloom. I wanted to resist - I had built up a long-standing adversarial relationship with the idea of roses - but she called me and called me again. I’ve learned to put my whole nose right into the flower and inhale as long as she’ll let me.
In addition to the impressive lexicon of associations connecting rose with true love, purity, wealth, rarity, sex, romance (all the good stuff) we must add magnificent therapeutic applications for the skin and for the central nervous system, in addition to a heady aroma that feels like a direct gift from her heart to ours.
I started last spring in my own yard with one bush - rosa rugosa - purchased from Wentworth Greenhouses in Rollingsford, NH (If you have never been, stop reading and go there right now.) The label said pink, but she turned out to bear glamorous white flowers. I didn’t get many blooms this, her first summer, but walking nearby in the garden, I was uplifted and I could feel her smile. I learned she wasn’t a diva so much as she was abundantly confident and clear. Those thorns protect her most tender parts; she’s very generous and she wants us to harvest with great mindfulness. I love this lesson of the rose and the thorn.
I bought four more rosa rugosa on BIG sale (almost the only way I ever buy anything) from the lovely people at Wolf Hill Garden Center in Ipswich at the end of the season. I haven’t seen them since November as they have been buried under snow, but I know they are there. I imagine their roots tenderizing the cold earth, settling in, and getting comfortable.
One of my favorite ways to appreciate the benefit of rose is by applying a tiny bit of Rose Balm to the skin. It is a precious, fragrant blend that I make with four simple ingredients: rosehip oil, pure rose essential oil, powdered rose petals, and beeswax. This rose balm is deeply nourishing for dry lips and skin, can soothe a bruise or calm a rash, and when I inhale its fragrance, I can feel the rose sharing its strength and resilience with the connective tissue of my body. Wow. The rose.
From melting the beeswax to turning the rose petals into a glimmering pink dust, every part of working with this rose balm is engaging and magical.
