
Very few roses set my heart aflutter like a moss rose. Closely related to the Centifolias, mosses emerged in the literature in ~ 1700. Setting them apart from other classes, their stems are covered with "whiskers" which resemble soft moss, and their perfume is more sweet and delicate than spun sugar.
With their vaguely Gothic treacherous look superimposed over the demure laciness of the flower, they are the quintessential Victorian garden rose.
I found this bush tucked just off the road in my neighborhood...lost to any gardener for some time. It is an own-root plant with a 2" base standing 4' tall. Each loosely double flower is heavily perfumed and 3" diameter. Its leaves are light green and matte.
With their vaguely Gothic treacherous look superimposed over the demure laciness of the flower, they are the quintessential Victorian garden rose.
I found this bush tucked just off the road in my neighborhood...lost to any gardener for some time. It is an own-root plant with a 2" base standing 4' tall. Each loosely double flower is heavily perfumed and 3" diameter. Its leaves are light green and matte.
It is, I believe, Alfred de Dalmas, otherwise known as Mousseline (Portemer, France 1855). For comparison, see below:
The word Mousseline refers to a fine French dress fabric, "A general term for very fine, semi-opaque fabrics-finer than muslins-made of silk, wool or cotton. A soft, thin silk fabric with a weave like muslin." The photos of this Brookline resident capture the translucence of the petals and illustrate nicely the inspiration for the name.





