The Old-fashioned roses in the Rondel Garden

21 Oct '06 1:12 am

Yesterday I took the first photos of the season in the Rondel Garden, and it is time to tell the story of this most personal of all the spaces in my garden.

The Rondel Garden is where the ashes of Francois, the love of my life, are buried. I dreamt of the garden in great detail, right down to the name, a week before he died of cancer in 1994. When I went in to the hospital I told him about it, he liked the idea, and we spent many happy hours planning it together.

He had originally asked to have his ashes buried across the dam from the house under the round slab which marks the centre of the Carpet Garden. I built it at the same time as the house, the first of the formal features on the farm, as a surprise tenth anniversary present for him. It is the point where everyone stops to look at my house across the dam, and it troubled me a little that they would be standing on him.

When I built the house I was adamant: it would stand between the pine trees on the edge of the meadow looking out over the dam, and there would be no garden – only herbs, a lemon tree and three climbing Iceberg roses in the pillars. I was gardening all over, but not near the house. In the back of my head was the possibility of a flower garden 60m away behind the house, where there were some graves, only one of which had a headstone. It is dated 1892: the nephew it seems of the person to whom the farm was originally deeded. There were a few graves in a block, then a space of a few meters, then a tiny grave of a child with a crudely carved headstone which must have contained an inset plaque, long since vanished. Nearly five years on I was still vaguely thinking about the possibilities of this garden.

Francois and I shared a love of gardening and of roses in particular. For our thirteenth anniversary, some weeks after the cancer was diagnosed, he gave me the most beautiful book ever produced in South Africa, one I have referred to before: Gwen Fa-gan’s (there: fooled that suspicious netnanny this time!) “Roses at the Cape of Good Hope”. This beautiful book was our introduction to the old-fashioned roses, and the start of our last great shared passion. We would set off in late October to see the old roses, and until exhaustion would suddenly set in, rush around the few nurseries and gardens where they could be seen. I started reading more widely about the old roses, discovered Sissinghurst, and then in the serene summer of 1993-4 I sat reading about great gardens and gardeners in the perfection of our suburban garden which we had created together, and occasionally went in to check on him where he now spent most of the day sleeping like a new baby.

That is the background to the dream. The dream was this: a round garden, a stone at the very centre in the space between the graves, marking Francois’ ashes, and a series of beds each containing a different type of old-fashioned rose – gallicas, albas, centifolias etc. There would be a path below the graves dissecting the circle, with pie-shaped beds below that. There would be a seating area looking down on the stone across a small thyme lawn and then across to the Carpet Garden, and two larger beds on either side of it. There would have to be a fence (roses need to be fenced against the deer) and a hedge all around the circle.

Francois made suggestions: use a selection of the old single-flowered HT roses for the hedge; plant a bay tree on either side of the seating area. I still have the original drawings I made to explain the Rondel Garden to him, and the notes I made as we discussed it, including these requests.

Then he died and it was a few weeks before I got to the farm. Needless to say, as soon as possible I went up to the old graves. I stood where the stone would go, and looked over towards the Carpet Garden. I could not see it. There was a huge old pine tree at the bottom end of the meadow, and it was directly on the axis; what is more the axis moved awkwardly, diagonally across the slope and at an odd angle to the line of the graves. The central concept in the design could not work!

I pondered; I looked around; I moved a few meters this way and a few that way; I measured. And before too long I had my answer, and it was in all ways an improvement.

Growing within the circle, and at a point perpendicular to the main axis below the graves, was a young Sequoia tree. By moving another young Sequoia 5m it would be outside the circle at the end of the main axis; the main axis ran parallel with the planting of a grove of young sawtooth oaks (Quercus acutisimma); my circle was perfectly quartered. By taking the axis into the grove a few meters, then turning through 90 degrees, I would face the Carpet Garden – not at an odd angle, but square on, and directly across the contour. Thus the dogleg approach was born, and within the expanse of beautiful nature, a formal series of perpendicular axes fell into place; the dream had only to be very slightly tweaked before it could be turned into reality...

Here we are now, 10 years next week since the party I gave for many of our friends where we unveiled a plaque on a stone in a garden dripping with old fashioned roses and nicotianas. How has that garden matured?

The answer, I too often think, is: not well. Most of my beds are hopelessly too small for the blowsy old roses. The circle should have been twice the diameter (but of course it couldn’t be.) The garden is not well enough cared for, with often unsatisfactory pruning and feeding regimes. The roses peak at the same time as our rainy season starts, often resulting in a total mess. By mid-summer the garden is a depressing tangle full of black spot and mildew, with most roses no longer flowering. Several important roses have died; others have had to be moved as they were simply too close together. And yet...

It is a magical spot, the coming-into-being and the geometry of it carrying almost psychic significance, the very shortcomings adding to the romance. As I stood this morning photographing it – after a night of soft rain so that every plant was heavy with water and bowing in thanks – and was overwhelmed by the lushness of it, the opulence and the promise of delights to come, I felt it was the most beautiful thing I have ever created.

Footnote: before the garden was completed, but after the main structures were laid out, a freak wind tore the old pine apart and it had to be cut down. The line of site between the Carpet Garden and the Rondel Garden was open...

21 Oct '06 12:25 pm

Beautiful.

I'm sorry for your loss of Francois, but your tribute to him is lovely.
I'm a big rose fan and I know that, come my time, I'd like to be in or near roses.

21 Oct '06 9:51 pm

Dear good friend!

I enjoyed your beautiful essay as always , followed your thoughts, descriptions, your delights and sorrows ! Thank you!

What you did for your beloved Francois is so noble! Francois now is everywhere, and with you in a certain way, especially if you think of him with such noble thoughts of true love...

Your photos, as always, are as beautiful as a poem! But , the most important thing of all is, even without Francois, that you have a creative, joyful, inspiring spirit, capable of inspiring your students, current friends, family members, and us all! Thank you ,Jack, for this!!

24 Oct '06 2:11 am

Here are a few shots taken over the last few days in the Rondel Garden. Will add more when I have the time!

24 Oct '06 4:51 am

My God, Jack! They are splendid! True charmers, especially beautiful with the ...raindrops make-up!! And this...Italiana, Variegata di Bologna!...What can I say!

24 Oct '06 1:20 pm

I particularly like the look of the Variegata di Bologna. I very nearly bought a varigated rose at the weekend (the name of which eludes me) but decided to wait until my 'pocket money account' has grown a little more. Very Happy

25 Oct '06 4:18 am

A few more pics taken last week...

25 Oct '06 8:54 am

Ooh 'Penelope'... One of my absolute favourites!
I had one at the old place which the possums never found and it gave me a wonderful display most of the year, hips included.
I've planted one here but it's only a small plant yet and I'm waiting patiently for her first bloom which I think is only days away.

25 Oct '06 8:55 am

Dear Jack! I am really concerned about these precious Roses of yours! You have to help them! Prevent them from getting sick with the rain while they bloom, like you said in your first post here. If you take a look at the Organic Gardening dep. of our Forum, you will discover really interesting ways dealing with mildew, and black spot (and aphid attacks). Concerning myself, I use a specific product that is absorbed by the plants, 3 times during the good season, beginning a little after pruning the Roses in early Spring, and ending in late August(:late Summer).

They are SO beautiful , Jack! Even more, with the raindrops make-up!! You've got to help them!

25 Oct '06 9:41 am

Dear Jack,

What a lovely story about the Rondel garden and your love for Francois. The photographs of your roses are exquisite. They put mine to shame; therefore, giving me something to aim for.

Sweet Liza. She is so concerned for your dear roses. I think she would cry if she saw how neglected mine can be sometimes. I will have to check out the organic cures she mentions. After my full retirement, maybe I will become a better steward.

Faith.

The Old-fashioned roses in the Rondel Garden

The Old-fashioned roses in the Rondel Garden

Lovely!

Some Rondel roses

Charmers!

More Rondel roses

Precious Roses!

Beautiful story and equally beautiful roses.