I am so guilty of coveting the David Austin roses I see on Instagram. I look at them and think that if I were even ten years younger, that's where my money would go.
But priorities went to putting in a garden to sit in when we moved here five years ago and roses got left out except for a red Knock Out rose that RH planted outside the fence to distract from the trash can sitting close.
A glimpse of this rose bush through the kitchen door makes me happy May through October. And I couldn't ask for a prettier picture than the one above that RH snapped one morning while taking out the trash.
But it is climbing David Austin roses that I am far too greedy for even though I can't think of a place for them to climb without the deer getting to them.
This year a climbing rose magically appeared in the trees in our turn-around!
It wasn't there last year. The only wild roses here were down in the thick road hedge, pretty but too far away to enjoy.
And yet this one sprang full grown and drooped gracefully to the ground.
Close enough to walk to every morning when feeding the birds.
Close enough for me to bury my face in and inhale its scent, close enough to study it's old fashioned petals.
Even if it's not a David Austin rose.