Last year I raved about the ten-year-old double line of old roses down in the bottom of the garden when I spent a couple of mornings with them (in them) flagging suckers and weeding. So this morning a year later was more of the same--thank goodness, no rootstock suckers this time--and the roses are even more glorious than they were a year ago. Actually I wouldn't have minded try to get some shots of them, but our camera is broken and DD has her smart phone with her at school.

The section where I was working: 'Nouvelle Pivoine', 'Cornelia', 'Botzaris', 'Gloire des Mousseux' (actually probably 'Mme. Louis Leveque'), clematis 'Blue Angel' scrambling all over, 'Agar', 'Souv. de St. Anne', 'Ville de Bruxelles', 'La Plus Belle des Ponctuees' (excuse me for all the accents etc. that I can't put in), 'Blanchefleur', magnificent, rampant 'Pink Leda', a distant 'Semperflorens' down at the bottom I didn't get to (this looked exactly like my 'Quatre Saisons' the last time I studied it), a nearly overrun 'Capitaine John Ingram', and a huge 'Petite Lisette'--small flower, massive plant.

That was about where I stopped, because my skin was starting to burn in spite of the sunscreen and I worry about that these days and in this weather. The list is of roses in front alternating with the roses on the downhill side, the back, all on a steep hillside. Since the garden looks south the roses have the irritating habit of facing downhill, so that I have to scramble around in the weeds and brush below to get the best view of them. When I planted them I tried to put smaller plants in front--uphill--and taller plants in back, which didn't invariably work, but mostly the low-growing, floppy Gallicas are scrambling around in the front and suckering into the grass path where they can get mowed down. I hear a lot about the invasiveness of Gallicas, but as far as I'm concerned nothing can beat the Damasks. 'Pink Leda' is perhaps my champion suckerer, and no one could ask for a more beautiful rose for the role, but 'Petite Lisette', which also has quite a Damask look to me, is a large plant that suckers steadily outward, though it doesn't run. 'Petite Orleanaise' further down the line is similar to it.

White roses outside of the Alba class seem to be generally weaker than their pink and purplish sisters, and one reason I was working in this area was to fend suckering roses off 'Botzaris' and 'Blanchefleur', both prized, extremely lovely varieties. I have a weakness for the whites. By the way, it's not that these two roses are puny, just that they're not as boundingly vigorous as their neigbors. 'Botzaris' was putting out new canes. Perhaps I'll get suckers from her one day.

I seem to remember reading somewhere that it has been generally decided that the rose often sold as 'Gloire des Mousseux' is actually 'Mme. Louis Leveque'. David Austin, I believe, suggested this years ago in one of his books; both the plants I've ordered, from Schultheis in 2007 or 2008 and from Petrovic in 2012, are, I think, 'Mme. Louis Leveque'. I don't know whether the true 'Gloire des Mousseux' is in commerce. I may be misspelling these names. Anyway, this is a great rose. Mr. Austin speaks disparagingly of MLL, but I love her. MLL looks like a tall, mossy Portland, upright and stout; the flowers are large, full, soft-petaled, pale pink, and clearly made to be happy in Piacenza with its mild spring climate. They can ball in wet weather, but here are generally perfect and superb. MLL suckers out; while I keep her off 'Botzaris', I allow her and the approaching Gallica, 'Agar' I think, to fight it out: they're both good vigorous types.

Clematis are iffy here: while they survive more often than I would expect, they often don't do much, but 'Blue Angel' is the exception. I have two plants of it, one here, one in the shade garden, and both are handsome, vigorous, reliable plants. The color is a soft slightly clouded blue and it blooms with the once-blooming old roses. This one is scrambling over 'Mme. Louis Leveque', 'Souv. de St. Anne', and further, and assorting wonderfully with them in color.

The drought continues, and now we have a forecast of a week of sunny warm-to-hot weather: summer, a few weeks early. I was not happy, when I inquired of an eighty-year-old gardening friend, to hear that neither she nor the gardeners she knows have ever seen such a year. Well, we'll see. The counryside and garden are astonishingly green and lush, for all the drought, though not the farmers' fields. The flowering of the once-blooming roses has been wonderful.