December roses are not unsual. You can knock snow off them and find a gust of heady scent tempting out sleeping bees for a hit of the good stuff. This pretty orange climber on a warm wall (here seen from inside the bathroom) was one of a froth of flowers on a bush in a sheltered spot in Cambridge. In my back garden I have a vigorous little red rose that never seems to be out of flower. It has generous froths of flowers; little clenched balls of crimson petals which you have to crush in your hand before there is a breath of scent; generous and mean all at once. It's a super culinary rose, too.
Once upon a time it was one of those cheap little roses in tins that people buy you when you leave a job. Now it flowers through December snow and July heat from a bush I have to cut back every year.
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