Francois Dubreuil: The Little Red Rose That Could{16}

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Francois Dubreuil and I go way back, both having been transplanted from Seattle close to a decade ago.  As a rose, he is a mess, but under the caterpillar-munched leaves and feeble habit lives a fighter. He’s my rosebush counterpart to Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. The little guy never says die; he may succumb to black spot, acquiesce to powdery mildew, and have stems with the tensile strength of wet spaghetti, but he still manages to bloom in a celebratory manner each spring. And what he lacks in vigor he makes up for in heady perfume. This seemingly diminutive rose packs a serious punch of fragrant bravado.

A tea rose first bred in 1894, Francois is not particularly fond of the Pacific Northwest’s cool temperatures, so I keep him potted. And besides, that way I can carry him  around like a garden pet, and plant my snchnoz into a nosegay of sweet smelling petals when gassy bulldogs are under foot (which is more times than not). Hopefully, Francois will do better this growing season, but if not, I’m happy that he and the sweet air about him continue to prevail.

More info about this fragrant rose that prefers warmer climes:

  • Dave’s garden, Francois Dubreuil rose page:
  • Francois Dubreuil, the man behind the rose: