Bourdeilles is a thrifty little village, which leads one to wonder how it came to be so full of the extravagance of roses. Resourceful by necessity, this is a farming community where money and energy are typically invested in practical things. But, everyone needs little luxuries in their lives and bright spots of pride. One of the things this resourceful community has done incredibly well is to learn how to propagate and pass along roses. It’s a wonder to walk through the village and see the roses in their full glory. Their sweet smell wafting in the alleys, along the main street, or over a wall telling you there are roses hidden in that garden on the other side of the stone wall, basking in the sun.
Every household has a story about their roses. Sometimes the plant was a gift to celebrate a special occasion, but mostly the stories are about who made the cuttings and started the rose collection of which they are so proud. The stories tell of how a grandmother could get any rose clipping to take root. Her rule was to take cuttings after the 14th of July and before the end of August. She’d just take a cutting of any rose she took a fancy to and pop it in the ground where she wanted a new plant and there it would flourish. Or how Dad would take his cuttings and set them in the special corner of the garden bed where he could give them extra care and then set them out in their new home after a year or two of coddling. Or how Aunt Sylvie would pinch cuttings from fancy chateau gardens and bring them back to Bourdeilles to create her own private chateau dreams.
One rose in particular seems to have captured the hearts of Bourdeilles. Glowing in ballerina pink, standing with stately, long stems for cutting and multiple buds on each stem, sending out a whisper of rose perfume, this rose can be found in just about every yard in the village.
A gift from one household to the next to the next and the next...... a beautiful rose that appears soft and fragile, but is incredibly strong and sturdy. This plant is resourceful and thrifty in it’s needs and is ever so content in a French countryside village.