Whether it’s love, friendship, or desire, the rose has long spoken for us, making it one of the greatest and most powerful flowers to ever grace our gardens. Is there another flower on earth that holds us so completely in its power? If we see a rose in passing—driving or walking by someone’s garden or even an old churchyard—our eye goes to it, our spirit cleaves to it, drinking in a brief “ahhhh” of desire and admiration. If we draw near—in our own garden or in a bouquet— time stands still as the rose’s luscious beauty envelops our attention and bewitches our senses.

Possessing the wondrous ability to introduce garden touches practically anywhere including high overhead, hanging baskets and planters open up a world of possibilities. Some plant lovers rely upon these features to extend their gardens to "untillable" areas. Others rely upon them because of space and time constraints. After all, these miniature gardens are less labor-intensive than, say, caring for a major perennial border. But they can be just as beautiful to behold and as satisfying to nurture. They also have the advantage of being more intimate—easier to see, touch, sniff, and appreciate daily.

Everybody knows roses are among the most splendid, most beloved flowers in the world. But not everybody grows them, perhaps because there are some unfortunate misconceptions about them. Traditional rows of hybrid tea roses emerging from a bed of bare earth or bark chips may strike present-day gardeners as boring or stilted. But roses, from hybrid teas to climbers to the newer ground covering varieties, don’t have to be confined to bedding schemes. They can contribute wonderful exuberance to today’s popular “mixed” or “naturalistic” gardens of perennials and shrubs. And they often have the bonus of providing more constant color than their companions throughout the course of a summer.

Standing outside on a gentle early-spring day, the heady scent of good soil in the air, and a freshly planted bed of young perennials before me, I survey my work proudly. The plants look small and vulnerable, with little tufts of foliage and small name tags by their sides. And yet...they look so promising. I vividly imagine this same spot in midsummer and feel a surge of hope and excitement.