I have lived around Rugosa roses most of my life. Most people who visit coastal areas are familiar with these  thickets of fragrant and very thorny rose bushes that are covered in white or magenta flowers during the summer and have shimmering deep orange to crimson seed – pods in the fall. The bushes thrive growing wild often spreading by rhizomes in the sands and dunes that are closest to the ocean. The plants also reproduce by seed. No other wild rose bush has such a density of thorns on each stem. This characteristic makes the Rugosa rose easy to distinguish from any other. The single or multi-floral blossoms waft an impossibly sweet scent towards the discerning nose while providing bees and insects with the sweetest nectar imaginable.

When I moved inland the first bush I bought was a Rugosa rose because I have never smelled a rose that was more fragrant than this one. Although they do not grow as prolifically in the Maine Mountains as they do on the coast, it is still possible to have beautiful healthy blossoming bushes gracing your yard, and over the years I have watched mine spread slowly through the sandy soil, the new shoots always trying to catch the sun. Each June I look forward to picking richly perfumed flowers for the house. This year the roses bloomed late and caught the first heat wave that hit Maine. I was disappointed to have the roses peek for such a brief moment in time, although there will be a second bloom later this summer. Even so, the scent of blooming roses outside my window awakened me at dawn for a week.

Imagine my surprise when I moved to Northern New Mexico and discovered Rugosa roses thriving at gas stations! My respect for these tough denizens of the wild increased as I witnessed the bushes blooming along highways under a fierce southern summer sun. I was determined to buy one for the casita…

It wasn’t until Mother’s Day while visiting greenhouses that my friend Andrew spotted a few small bushes in an area that was overflowing with hundreds of pots of more cultivated roses. I was so excited to have found what seemed to be a lost friend because I had asked about buying these roses earlier in the spring only to discover that no one seemed to carry them. Frankly, I was surprised, because if these bushes thrived in unlikely places like gas stations in Santa Fe, I assumed they would probably grow well just about anywhere. I have developed a deeper respect than ever for tough plants after living in the desert!

Needless to say, I returned home that day with a small blooming Rugosa rose that I tenderly planted in front of the south - facing porch. The bush had just a few blooms left on it so I bent down to smell the deep magenta flowers instead of picking some. By the time I left for Maine the bush had developed small green seed-pods called rose hips. Because I have a drip system in place, I am hopeful that the bush will thrive although I know from personal experience that planting these roses can be the trickiest part of growing them.

When I researched Rugosa roses for this article I was astonished to learn that they originated and are native to Asia and Siberia with smaller populations native to this continent, Europe and Africa.

The rose as a species according to fossil evidence is 35 million years old. Apparently, garden cultivation of roses began some 5,000 years ago, probably in China. And in this country some 150 varieties, including Rugosas, eventually spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere, from Alaska to Mexico. I have a pale pink wild rose that grows wild in Iren’s Bosque in Abiquiu and here on my property too and now I know why!

These plants have been around for a very long time. Roses are survivors and even with Climate Change upon us, most wild species will probably remain extant because this rose hybridizes so easily with others, wild and cultivated. Rose growers also love them because they also are incredibly disease resistant, tolerant of poor soil and salt.  

Sadly, many cultivated roses have lost their scent. They are also ignored by pollinators, another reason why I prefer wild roses to those that are cultivars. All wild roses have fruits and seeds but most are tiny.

However, the Rugosa produces delicious nutritious edible seed pods for humans and non-humans alike. The fruit can be eaten raw or cooked because the hips are sweet. If one has the patience to make rose hip jam as I have, the rewards are considerable. The fruit is a fairly large size for a rose with a relatively thick layer of flesh and is rich in Vitamin C. Inside the seeds are a good source of vitamin E, and can be ground into a powder and mixed with flour or added to other foods as a supplement. The petals of the screened-dried Rugosa rose also make fragrant long lasting indoor bouquets – potpourri. It is also possible to make a tea combining the fruit with some leaves that is very pleasing to drink.

When the hips ripen in early autumn I plan to make a honeyed sun tea that combines rose hips and mint leaves from my southern garden. Just the thought makes my mouth water.

​One beautiful blue and gold afternoon late last fall, Iren and I wandered through a nearby arroyo. As always we were on the lookout for whatever might capture our attention. Both of us were desert “beachcombers” by nature, each with her unique preferences.
 
On a steep hillside amidst some scree I glimpsed an uprooted cactus clinging, somewhat desperately I thought, to the slope. Almost all of its roots were exposed. How had it gotten there I wondered. It appeared to have tumbled down the mountain, or perhaps it had been pushed by water or trampled on by cattle.
 
I recognized the cactus immediately because even in its desiccated state I could identify the species; it was a Claret cup cactus, a native to the area, and a wild hedgehog that was very dear to my heart.
 
I had first seen one of these beautiful cactus blooming at Iren’s the June before last. The color of flame, I thought it was a summer solstice vision.
 
The following spring I planted my own claret cactus in the ground after I moved into the casita and after it bloomed for a few days in June some creature feasted on the startling deep orange fruit. Eventually one of my gophers munched down its roots. One morning late that summer my spiny friend simply toppled over dead. I was bereft... Out of all of my wild dug cactus this one was my favorite.
 
In it’s present state the cactus in front of me was shriveled almost beyond recognition. The poor plant had a steel gray cast to it. Neither Iren nor I held out much hope for life but I couldn’t resist bringing it home anyway.
 
I have been a plant gatherer all my life, paying particular attention to flowers, herbs and plants that are native to a particular place. Around my house in Maine I have transplanted so many herbs and wildflowers over a period of thirty plus years that my land is literally awash in wild species from other micro-climates in this area.
 
Returning to the casita with my thorny friend I decided to plant it in a pot next to the other cacti that had survived the attentions of my wily gopher, teaching me in the process that it was useless to plant anything in that dirt without an underlying screen to protect its roots. Every wild cactus I had was now living in a pot.
 
That first night I left the cactus roots in water; the next morning I placed it lovingly in a frog pot and left it in a protected place by the southern wall where it remained all winter. Every single day when I came out the door I gazed at that very dead looking cactus, willing it to come back to life. I never gave up hoping…
 
Early in March I noticed that the cactus seemed to be absorbing water because it’s wrinkles were starting to smooth out. Next the cactus took on a pale greenish cast, and this was when I realized that my rescue had been successful – this cactus was going to live!
 
However, nothing prepared me for what happened in April. One morning I discovered a small reddish bump on my cactus. My spiny friend was actually going to bloom!
 
Soon there were seven bumps that matured into seven tightly closed teardrop blossoms.
I knew from reading that this hedgehog cactus could grow in clumps as much as 3-4 feet across, and that the brilliant blood orange or scarlet flowers – depending on the soil type - often covered the entire plant. Someday, I must witness a whole colony of these cacti. If anyone knows of one in our area, please let me know!  
Even though I had already returned to the North County before the cactus flowers actually opened I saw pictures of mine. I didn’t mind not seeing them – these flowers were emblazoned in my mind, and besides, this reclamation story has such a happy ending!