Seedling's first flower!

Well, at long last, the first flower of my little rose seedling has opened!

Its mother looks like this:

And the daddy looks like this and boast the strongest fragrance of any rose I know:

And here is the first flower of their little baby:

It is a bit scruffy looking, but that will probably change as it matures. The first flower of a new rose seedling usually has fewer petals than the blooms from a mature plant, and the extra petals can significantly change the form and look of the overall bloom.
The good news is that the fragrance is outstanding! To my nose, almost as strong as its delightful father, which is saying something.

This cross resulted in about what I had expected, but that isn't always the case. Whenever you make a cross, odd, unexpected stuff pops out. Sometimes it is good, sometimes not so much. But I got lucky this time with one of my other seedlings from the same cross. It germinated much later, so no flowers yet, but it has stunningly lovely blue-grey leaves, very very like Rosa glauca. Totally unexpected color, and very welcome! I can't wait to see what the flowers look like. Probably pink, like its sibling, but it could be different. In any case, I'll have to cross it with a bunch of my other favorite roses. Wouldn't a dark, rich, smoldering red flower look stunning on a bush of those leaves?

Gratitude

It is that time of year when we gather and think of all the things we are truely, deeply, thankful for. I have a long list: My health, my wonderful partner, my house, family and job, all my wonderful blogging friends, and a whole array of amazing things that have happened to me this year. But among all the things I could mention here, one really stands out.

Cardoons.

I am so, so, SO thankful for cardoons. Just look at those leaves!

I love my cardoons all year, but right now, when everything else is brown and dead aside from a few plucky pansies and a handful of autumn crocuses, the fact that they continue lush, vigorous and very much alive with color and texture is almost hard to believe.

As the garden fades in the face of nightly frosts the cardoons stand tall and vigorous, their bright silver setting off the browns and tans around them.

I love my cardoons now, and come spring I love them, if possible, even more, as cardoons are one of the first perennials to leaf out and start making the garden look full and lush again. Provided, that is, they make it through the winter at all. They are only boarder-line hardy for me (future breeding project: hardier cardoons), but I have them in a sheltered spot right by the foundation, and they've done fine the last couple years. I'll be crossing my fingers, hoping for the best, and starting more from seed just in case.