Home » Gardening Information » Great Plants
A Mystery Rose
by Charles A. Walker, Jr.
The mystery rose. No, it isn't a horticultural character from a detective novel—just a rose whose original name has been lost. It turned up in an out-of-the-way place, along a rural roadside, but it could as easily have been passed down in several generations of a family or encountered in an old cemetery, struggling to survive the weedeater. I root a cutting from it, and as it begins growing in my garden, my appreciation for it grows as well. I don't really need to know this mystery rose's original identity in order to completely enjoy its beauty and fragrance—but human curiosity eventually gets the best of me, and off I go on a quest for its true name.
Since blooms are the most eye-catching feature of roses, I begin by comparing the flowers of my foundling with labeled roses in gardens or with photographs in books. After a while it becomes evident that my rose isn't in the gardens I'm visiting. The photographs aren't much help either; the colors don't seem to match, or the blooms are too far in the background to be useful.
'Spice' was discovered and named by old-rose enthusiasts in Bermuda.
Photo © Stephen Scanniello
So I show my mystery rose to some heritage-rose experts. One tells me that it might be so-and-so, but he isn't sure. Another says that the first expert was wrong and that it is certainly such-and-such. Someone else ventures a third guess. My experts don't explain how they've reached their conclusions, and when I ask them, I get obscure answers peppered with unfamiliar terms like "Boursault" and "hybrid China," and references to descriptions and illustrations in some books from the 1800s. I come away more puzzled than before.
Luckily I meet some fellow amateur heritage rose enthusiasts. They aren't botanists, but they've learned a half-dozen convenient botanical terms. Before long I'm getting acquainted with parts of a rose plant that I never noticed before: The stipules, for instance, are the pair of little green ribbons that grow at the base of the leaf where it attaches to the stem. These don't seem to be of much use to the plant, but they are very handy in distinguishing roses from each other. The edges of the stipules might be smooth or notched or deeply fringed. Sepals are the five green triangular pieces that enclose the flower petals still in the bud. Their edges can also vary from rose to rose. I learn that prickles (which I had been calling thorns) have different shapes and jut out from the stems at different angles.
Learning these few new terms and paying closer attention to the details in the leaves boosts my confidence in comparing roses, even when they aren't in bloom.
Next, I get a chance to examine several of the books from the 1800s that the experts told me about. There are hundreds of roses described in them, so at first I'm excited about the prospect of discovering the name of my mystery rose among them. But gradually I realize that the descriptions in the books are too sketchy, or too vague, to be of use.
So what do I do with my mystery rose? I keep it, without its original name, and share it with my friends. Maybe I'll give it a new name—something inspired by the place where I found it, the person who first told me about it, or what it looks like growing in my garden. After all, the Bermuda Rose Society has been naming roses this way for more than 40 years, and some of the American nurseries that specialize in old roses have followed suit, even giving mystery roses particular emphasis in their catalogs.
But what if the same mystery rose is found in two different places and inadvertently given two different new names? This need not create a problem. Plant parts or, if necessary, sophisticated biochemical tests could be used to verify that these two roses are really just one. Then one of the new names could be designated as a synonym, just as modern roses often have several synonyms, depending on the countries where they're marketed.
Long snubbed simply because of their missing names, mystery roses are becoming increasingly popular as garden-worthy subjects. By working cooperatively, we can find practical ways to give them confusion-free new names and ensure their continued cultivation and enjoyment for many years to come.
Charles A. Walker, Jr. is president of the Heritage Rose Foundation. He has grown and studied heritage roses for more than 20 years.