The gardeners in Adelaide love their roses and they grow beautifully in that climate. Just a walk down any suburban street will showcase garden after garden full of fragrant roses in various stages of bloom. This is particularly so in the little German village of Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills.
Roses have been around for centuries and have been used as symbols of love, beauty, war, and politics. They are represented in legends and myths, history, literature, Christianity and wars, such as England’s Wars of the Roses. They are used as confetti at marriage celebrations, for medicinal purposes, and as a source of perfume. The colour of the rose is also significant and in the names of roses a representation of almost every human emotion and desire is found. When I purchase a rose, the name of that particular rose is of personal significance. Roses require some tender care to keep them healthy and blooming beautifully, but I am always amazed at their resilience and their capacity to just keep on giving.
Over the years I have planted rose gardens in various locations, even in the gardens of rental properties. Planting and nurturing those gardens was a therapy and money well invested. My current rose garden is sheer poetry since their purchase and maintenance embraces many poetic techniques. I choose roses for their name, their colour and their fragrance, all of which are significant in their representation of some aspect of my interest in history, literature, life or love. My roses are symbolic, metaphoric and personified.
Something I love about gardening is how plants so aptly reflect greater truths in life. I am sure you have heard of the old saying, nip it in the bud when something needs to have a stop put to it before it has the opportunity to cause too much damage. But when something goes past the point that it cannot be contained anymore, there is no way of stopping the course of events which must follow until all is played out and spent. One of my favourite roses is named “Seduction” and here is my little poem about that rose.
Tightly held in bud,
Useless to deny the flood of passion
held in waiting for expression.
Majestically unfolding. Petals pure white
pinkish tips, transparent.
The fragrance of Seduction lures,
Blooms in full delight,
Delicate, alluring, revealing the fullness of expectation.
Attracting bees among stamen and pollen,
Drinking in the sweet nectar,
Seduction, now wilted and spent,
Petals fall like flotsam on the breeze.
For to yield is death.
Poetry by Estelle D.