What can I write about roses that hasn’t already been said? Such exquisite beauty, fragrance, and thorny nature are well known to poets, writers, and gardeners around the world.   

        The early bloomers greeted us as we strolled through one of the oldest rose gardens in the country. 

    “May is our time to shine,” said the tour guide who showed us around the Wyck Historic House and Garden. 

    This 1820 garden property boasted 50 cultivars of heritage roses. In horticultural terms, a heritage rose is one that was bred or registered before 1867, according to Wyck’s horticulturalist.   

        The roses have kept their identity and distinctive scent unlike many hybrids that have lost their fragrance thanks to breeding /crossbreeding. Compared to modern-day roses, like the ones I first fell in love with at age 9, they are smaller and taller. Yes, I’m taller now too but these sprawling bushes range from six to 12 feet tall. As I walked among the roses, tiny thorns grabbed my sleeve and demanded I slow down, stop and admire them. 

        Caring for the vintage roses here requires less pampering than today's modern varieties. These plants have proven themselves because during their long life they have received little interference from caretakers. Speaking of long life, some roses are thought to have been planted around 1700 as medicinal resources. Plants have always had a role helping humans.  

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        It’s easy to pass by this house and fenced-in garden in Germantown, PA without ever knowing its secret – 2.5 acres of dedicated garden. Traffic, sirens and buses announcing the next stop reminded us that this exists off a busy roadway. We had the garden to ourselves, except for the bee hives, and a lone photographer. 

  Jane Bourne Haines II, who grew up in this house, later founded the Pennsylvania School of Horticulture for Women, the first school of its kind in the United States. A school started by women for women. A radical idea for the time. 

        The story goes that Haines out for a carriage ride one day and saw both the space and an opportunity to fulfill a dream.  She  promoted the school for:

        

“earnest minded women who have a love for country life and an aptitude for country pursuits, practical training in horticulture.” 

        Coursework covered the business of farming. Although classes were held at the house, the hard work was accomplished on the – 71 acres of farmland. Students planted hundreds of fruit trees, raised chickens, tended honeybees, all which helped partially support the school. In order to plant, they had to prepare the land. The women were handed a basket of dynamite. Yes, they learned how to blow up tree stumps. 

        “Dynamite has No Terrors for the Girl Students of the Pennsylvania Horticultural School: They Remove Stumps with the Explosive in Latest Fashion,” reported The North American newspaper in 1914.    

        Now, I don’t think fashion referred to their attire, however, the paper did mention what the women wore. They dressed in “middy blouses, short skirts, and old gloves.”

Students were learning skills in food production that would be valuable not only for their families for the country. They stepped into a critical role during World War I when labor was in demand as many men left to fight and serve in the military. 

Acceptance of women working in agriculture grew during this time. In World War II, women filled the roles traditionally held by men, which included food production. 

Typically, women who worked outside the home didn’t have high-paying jobs in the early 1900s. But Haines convinced her fellow graduates of Bryn Mawr College, a prestige women’s college, to become investors. The investment paid off as this visionary school provided career opportunities for women. 

And I must believe her inspiration was first sparked by this garden open to visitors around the world. I learned the story about a woman whose passion for horticulture first took root as a child in this special garden.       

        Each generation contributed to the garden leaving a legacy of love for gardening and science. As I think about my personal legacy, I hope to live like one of these rose bushes with the capacity to gracefully grow and thrive as I age.