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Dr. Leda's Rose Journal |
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O, My Luve Is Like a Red,
Red AARS Winner
By Dr. Leda Horticulture, O. R.
February, 2003
True Romance: the bodice-ripping adventures of
Lady Leda and Lord Swan
Lord Swan strode briskly into the baronial bedchamber and removed his
velvet cloak, tossing it languidly across the baronial bed. His fairly
muscular shoulders rippled as he ran his rugged, manly fingers through
his thick, curly hair. He turned to Lady Leda and smiled seductively.
"I have returned to thee at last, my Lady, after six long years spent
questing futilely hither and yon after the elusive Holy Grail," he announced.
"Couldn't seem to find the bloody thing anywhere."
Tenderly, he took her tiny soft hands into his own rugged manly ones,
and began to caress her palms. "My Lady!" he cried suddenly. "Hast thou
been slaying dragons whilst I was away? Hast thou seen combat with dastardly
swordsmen? Thy tiny soft hands are a wretched mess! Why, they look as
if they had been picking cotton!"
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Lady Leda cast her enormous shimmering blue eyes downward. "Frankly, my Lord," she answered demurely. "I have been pruning rose bushes. Hast thou forgotten what day this is?"
"Pruning roses already, my Lady? But the day to prune roses in our fair climate is...is...oh." Lord Swan slapped his noble, aristocratic forehead. "Oy vey, is it Valentine's Day again already?"
Thank You for Your Orders!
We appreciate the many loyal, trusting customers who shopped with us during the bareroot rose season. We hope we didn't leave anyone in the lurch when we had to close the shopping season one week early. If requested, your order is in cold storage until ready for shipment Stay in touch with Dr. Leda's column this year and in the fall we'll send you advance notice of our season opening!
"Hadst thou forgotten, then, my Lord?" Lady Leda inquired through grimly clenched teeth.
"Nay! Oh, nay, nay! Not at all my Lady. In fact, I was just on my way to Ye Olde Florist Shoppe, to fetch a dozen red, red roses with which to declare my immortal luve for thee." Hastily, he retrieved his velvet cloak from the baronial bed and draped it over his rippling, fairly muscular shoulders.
"'Luve'?" she said, arching one fair eyebrow sarcastically. "Hast thou disabled thy spellchecker, my Lord, or wouldst thou quote that impostor Robert Burns? Knowest thou not that his 'luve' was false?" Her enormous blue eyes shimmered with icy contempt.
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| Floribunda |
"False! How so, my Lady?" he cried, gazing with consternation at her heaving bosom.
"There were no true red roses in Scotland when Burns wrote that silly poem, my Lord. The first true red rose, 'Slater's Crimson China,' did not arrive in Europe until 1792. Forsooth, his 'luve' was merely a dark pink. Probably Rosa gallica officialis."
"Aha! I see my Lady has been consorting with Sirs Phillips and Rix whilst I was away, lo these six long futile years. Would it not, perhaps, be more appropriate if my Lady consorted with female friends during her lordship's absence?"
"As a matter of fact," said Lady Leda, narrowing her enormous shimmering blue eyes and folding her shapely arms across her heaving bosom, "I had lunch with Josephine Bonaparte yesterday. Thanks to a shrewd and ambitious attorney, whose card I have tucked deep within my ample bodice, the Empress hath obtained an extremely generous divorce settlement. In addition to excessive lifelong alimony, she will keep Malmaison with its 4500 acres of rose gardens, and will retain a staff of notable rose hybridizers as well as the services of the world famous rose painter Pierre-Joseph Redouté. Not too shabby, eh, my Lord?"
"Divorce lawyers," groaned Lord Swan, turning pale and clutching his check book as he sank to the baronial bed. "Mention not such loathsome abominations, my Lady!"
"And that's not all, my Lord," she continued, her bosom heaving to unnatural heights as she towered above him. "Josephine's weasely little ex is now legally required to actually take an active interest in her roses. Even whilst he is off conquering faraway lands and fighting battles that shall eternally alter the course of history, he must write her a letter every week, mentioning each of her 250 rose varieties by name."
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| Red Bed |
"Poor bloke," muttered Lord Swan, massaging the bags beginning to form beneath his dark passionate eyes. "After that, Waterloo and Elba shall seem a picnic in the park."
He rose from the baronial bed and placed a rugged, manly hand upon Lady Leda's trembling white shoulder. "Never mind the cut florist roses, my Lady. Unlike my love, they perish and fade. Instead, I shall hie me to Ye Olde Nursery Shoppe and fetch thee a red, red bareroot rose which shall flourish in thy garden year after year, reminding thee of the eternal flame of my passion."
"Oh, my Lord!" she cried, her enormous blue eyes shimmering with joy. "I do so love a new bareroot rose! I have many reds in my garden already: 'Don Juan' climbs the turrets, 'Rouge Royale' lines the drawbridges, 'Olympiad' grows along the moat, 'Red Ribbons' cascades over the dungeons; 'Lovers Lane' grows erect down by the gamekeeper's cottage..."
"Oh? I was not aware that my Lady tended roses at the gamekeeper's cottage."
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| Don Juan |
"And yet, my Lord," she continued, deftly steering the conversation away from the gamekeeper, "what my heart truly covets is the Perfect Red Rose. A deep, rich, true red that holds its color in heat, with long straight stems for cutting, exquisite form, lush handsome foliage, vigorous growth, bountiful repeat bloom, and a heady sweet fragrance that shall waft like clouds of heavenly perfume throughout the palace...."
"My Lady is not easily satisfied," observed Lord Swan. "Methinks a quest for this Perfect Red Rose could make the Holy Grail thing look like a child's Easter egg hunt."
"...It must also be completely free of disease," she continued. "It must tolerate drought and be impervious to insects and deer. It must have a pleasing shape and bear delicious edible fruit year-round..."
"All right, all right," he sighed. "I shall saddle my steed and assemble an army and set forth forthwith on this noble and chivalrous quest. I shall not return until I have discovered the Perfect Red Rose that is worthy of my Lady's own beauty and perfection."
"Fare thee well, my Lord!" cried Lady Leda, dabbing a dainty lace handkerchief at the corner of her enormous shimmering blue eye. "I shall patiently await thy safe return! Meanwhile, there is soil to amend, and several new white roses I wish to try. Perhaps the gamekeeper will help me dig holes." She wiped away a tiny tear as she wandered off to sharpen her Felcos and add a few last-minute roses to her order
