I've been smitten with roses. Roses dominate the summer scene. I can't explain what it is about them. All I know is they get under my skin-not just the thorns. I grow an assortment that run the gamut from wild wanton creatures to refined beauties. Their happy countenance is contagious. They comfort, cheer and please everyone that they meet. Roses are easy to live with if you choose wisely-very few hybrid teas make the cut in our garden. They take too much pampering.

Consequently I have planted roses everywhere. Using the English ivy on the house as their trellis, roses grow up the house and across the top of the windows hanging down and peeking in. 'Eden Climber' garlands the balcony.

Roses also cover my garden house where I keep my tools and arrange cut flowers.

Roses back the formal garden, highlighting the flowers in front. They run down the bank to the water and along the fence around the pool where they cavort with clematis.

Every arbor has its share of climbers.

On the posts at the entrance, roses greet guests and traffic that drives by.

Each year has brought more roses. Individual bushes are mixed into flower borders and flowers are planted into rose borders.

The vegetable garden comes into its own midsummer but in June between the tomato plants there are roses for cutting. Actually, there are as many flowers for cutting as there are vegetables.

If you've never taken apart an English rose and counted all the petals you've missed out on one of Nature's greatest secrets. Estimate the number of petals before you start. I'm always happily surprised. The answer may be close to a hundred.

Some of the most spectacular roses are the once bloomers. They produce more blooms in a shorter period than most roses do over the whole season. After their month of bloom they quietly recede to produce rose hips, a glory of the fall and winter garden. The continuous blooming roses take many breaks over the summer. That is when the perennials in the formal garden strut their stuff.

One of the things I look forward to each summer is the bloom of the Chinese trumpet lilies. They blare their perfume to the delight of everyone who passes by. I have never staked them in the fifteen years they've lived in the garden, despite what the catalogs recommend. I like the way they take an interest in the other plants by leaning over them. It is so much more natural then making them stand rigidly erect.

The shady carriage yard has its share of blooms as well. It is designed more for its foliage shapes and colors then for its flowers. Consequently it is a peaceful, serene and soothing place to relax.

In April the woodland garden was wall to-wall spring flowers. Now it is now a patchwork quilt of textures and different shades of green with only a few dots of color from the hydrangea and impatiens.

The pond at the bottom of the hill by the bay is filled with water plants. Although the forget-me-nots bloom in the spring and sporadically in the summer most of the water plants bloom in late July and stay on through August and into September. The annual water lilies carry flower the most but the perennial water lilies contribute too. When the lotus blooms I can't take my eyes off of it, although they are often here one day and gone the next.



The water is dyed black
so the flowers reflect on
the surface. It is like having
a mirror in their dressing
room and every flower can
be seen twice from different
angles.

The hosta family is not known for its perfume, yet some of my favorite scents blare from the trumpet flowers of a few of them—the descendants or crosses of the only scented species, Hosta plantaginea.

Unlike the more popular hostas, whose leaves are puckered or quilted, variegated with silver or gold, or solid gold or blue, H. plantaginea, when not in bloom, are dowdy, plain Janes often overlooked until the end of August. It is then, when most flowers are finishing and the garden is quieter, that its hidden talents shine—or rather, its siren scent swims on the breeze. Its cultivars, the larger flowered ‘Royal Standard’ and the double-trumpeted ‘Aphrodite’, are favorites of mine. Their white trumpet flowers blare a lily-like perfume, commanding us to pay attention.

To make the most of their beauty, plant fragrant hosta where you will see them at night when their white blooms hold and reflect the moonlight and be sure to cut a handful for a bouquet. In a vase without their floppy, elephant-ear foliage, their good looks and powerful perfume, often leads visitors to mistake them for lilies. Check out the September bouquet on the bouquet of the month tab to see what I mean.

Hosta ‘Royal standard’ has larger flowers than the species Hosta plantaginea	The shady carriage yard is brightened by blooms of butterfly bush and astilbe.