Roses, to me, epitomize summer. By which I mean the soft, warm beauty of early summer, the summer of lush greenery and country weddings, rather than the beach picnics and scorched earth of late August. And they should be “au naturale”. Not for me the manicured specimens of hybrid teas, each in their own two square feet of bare earth; I like my roses big and blowsy, fat with fragrance, spilling over arbours and mixed with companion plants. If that offends you, move along..