" Roses are like the days : shortest during the dark months from November to February, when they are often little more noticeable than a spiky stalk. Even unpruned wild roses are barely noticeable in a winter hedgerow, unless a rogue briar catches the wind or some unlucky patch of exposed skin. It is when the year begins to stretch and swell into early summer that the astonishing transformation of the garden begins, with bristling yellow or white rosebushes and arching sprays of clustering cream panicles.Wild dog roses whose blooms are small and pale and layerless , rely on numbers to make their presence known: along roadsides, in railway cuttings, the little fleets of pale pink coracles balance in a sea of green elder, firmly anchored by long, strong stems as the spray of white spume surge around. Some are white with yellow centres, like delicate poached eggs splashed across a hedgerow. By high summer, garden roses create a prismatic array of iceberg white, old yellow, amber, scarlet, magenta or crimson glory. Walls, sheds and garages disappear under mountainous rambling roses, which hang like suspended avalanches of pink and cream. Roses can shoot up trees to make midsummer fireworks of bright, white-gold star showers , or stay close to the ground, releasing cascades of soft, small spheres over a terrace or a rockery. The late flowerers are undeterred by autumn dankness and frost, their cold beauty, hung with clear cobwebs, while the bloomless bushes of earlier roses offer round red hips to ravenous birds."
- an extract from 'The Brief Life Of Flowers' by Fiona Stafford.
Illustration by Beatrice Emma Parsons, 1870 -1955.
I'd say they are noticeable in winter hedgerows too because their hips are so welcome and bright.
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