The two long flower beds between Willard’s ‘Croquet Court’ and the main garden in front of our house were once crowded with roses at this time of year.  They were an old-fashioned rose and were a particular favorite of my dad’s.  He called them “York Roses” but I believe they are more properly called “York and Lancaster Roses.”

They are said to symbolize the struggle for power by two royal families in England, each of whom had their own floral badge —  the red rose of the Lancasters and the white rose of the Yorks.  Their battles continued over three decades during the mid-fifteenth century and have come to be known as the “War of the Roses.”

At the end of it, Henry VII, a descendent of the House of Lancaster was finally named king.  As a gesture of reconciliation, he married a descendent of the House of York and the red rose and the white rose were united.

Historians of botany say that a new sort of flower appeared shortly thereafter:  a rose bush that grew three types of blossoms – some pure white, others pure red, and the remaining roses a variegated red and white, sometimes known as a damask rose.

The story in our family is that the “York Roses” were brought from the Isle of Man by the Crellin family who built this house in 1869.  I don’t know if that is true or not, but I do remember the roses ‘always’ being here.

They thrived under my father’s watchful eye, but in recent years they’ve been losing a battle of their own, ‘The War Against the Deer People.’  Several years ago, we were down to a half dozen struggling plants that were being dwarfed by Shasta daisies and day lilies.  We rescued them, planted them in large tubs, and put them in an area the deer couldn’t reach.  (And, about that time we discovered Liquid Fence, the anti-deer Miracle of the Ages.)

This year the roses are finally back in full force.  They are blossoming like crazy in their tubs, their distinctive red, white, and variegated blossoms brightening our gray June days.  Three cheers and pip pip!