The sweet scent of summer

Frank Summerside can walk through his yard and tell you the name of each of his roses.

He has more than 100 blooms.

And although the Le Mars man didn't name them himself -- rose breeders get to choose a name for each variety they create or "hybridize" -- Summerside does has an affinity for the flower.

He was first pricked with the rose bug when he was living in Austin, Minn. and working as a supervisor of music at an elementary school.

"One teacher down the block had a wonderful garden, and I walked by her house every day," Summerside said.

He picked up some of the basics of rose growing from her and put in his first plants.

"I started out with three and ended up with 100," he laughed.

It's not surprising.

Roses are like collectors' items. Red roses of Valentine's Day fame are only just the beginning. Nature and hybridizers have created a palette of roses ranging from white to pink to orange to deep purple.

The "Rosie O'Donnell" has pale petals that plunge into crimson at the tips.

The "Jubilee Celebration" is a pink ruffly affair with dozens of petals -- like an old-fashioned petticoat. An English rose, it was named in honor of the Queen's Golden Jubilee.

"Scentimental" is almost striped, with burgundy and white streaks running from the center of the flower to the edge of each petal.

And the answer to Shakespeare's age-old question: Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? In a way, no.

Different varieties, like the yellow "Peace" rose, are nearly without a scent.

The deep pink "McCartney," on the other hand, is one of the most aromatic roses Summerside grows.

"I think the fragrance is worth a million dollars," he said.

His garden collection is ever-growing. Every fall, his Edmunds' Roses catalog arrives with lots of glossy pictures and poetic descriptions that would make even a novice gardener start dreaming about rosebuds.

Next year, Summerside hopes he can order "Rock 'n' Roll," a bold red-and-white striped rose that debuted last year in the catalog but sold out before he could get any.

But not all of his roses come from the catalog.

A wild-looking yellow rosebush is a transplant from a South Dakota home to Le Mars, where he moved with his wife Ruth to take the job of music director at Westmar College.

Several of his plants were inspired by his travels. Last summer he went with family to Norway to revisit their heritage. They also visited rose gardens there.

"I picked out a few I really liked, then when we came back, I ordered them through Canada," Summerside said.

Another of his rose plants -- "Veteran's Honor," a deep red -- was a gift from his sister whose husband served in the military.

Summerside doesn't keep his roses to himself. Besides his streetside display for the passerby, he also delivers rose bouquets to folks that might not be able to get out of their homes to see them.

He always makes sure that at least one of the roses in each bunch is fragrant -- people are disappointed, he said, when even the most colorful roses don't offer their trademark scent.

Sharing roses, he said, is part of what makes all the rose care worth it.

Summerside said he feeds the flowers, notoriously high-maintenance, every two weeks with fertilizer he buys in Wisconsin -- he thinks the chemistry is right for his soil.

The plants have to be pruned in the spring, watered (but not too wet) and protected from bugs.

In fall, the neighbors that have enjoyed Summerside's yard full of blossoms help him prepare the roses for winter.

He covers each bush with about 2 1/2 feet of dried leaves to pack the moisture in the ground and keep away the hard freezes. People living nearby donate the leaves from their lawns.

"All the neighbors help," Summerside said.

He waits until the first hard freeze -- when temperatures dip into the 20s -- before he adds the leaf cover.

In spring comes the pruning, and then the bushes start to green up, and then bud.

This is Summerside's time of year.

Looking over his rose bed, Summerside's mind goes to Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg's piece "The Last Spring" which captures a bit of why he pours time and energy into tending his roses and the rest.

The musical work, inspired by the words of a Norwegian poem, comes from the point of view of a person who doesn't know whether this may be his last spring. Translated, the words say: "in the spring-like scent... I will find myself a home."

Summerside identifies with the author's delight in the season.

"Gardeners," he said, "are always rejoicing that they get to see another spring."