Rose of Sharon

The rose of sharon, hibiscus syriacus, isn’t really a rose. When I tried to remember when I first became fascinated with this shrub, I was not sure. It wasn't like the honeysuckle or Japanese rose, kerria japonica, (which also is not a rose) that came because of my childhood.

I am attracted to old plants with interesting histories that go back in time which is why I have so many antique roses but that doesn't explain the roses of sharon in my garden.

During the years when I wrote quite a bit of fiction, one was titled Rose of Sharon. The story was set in 1850s Oregon, and its central character was a widowed woman. Plants were important to her as she was a healing woman born into a family of healing women, the kind who knew how to help others, who knew how to use plants for health problems. Perhaps it was in researching about plants she might have used that I learned about the rose of sharon.

Perhaps I thought of it because of the scripture from The Book of Solomon in the Bible—I am the rose of sharon and the lily of the valley. What more could a woman ask than to be compared to those two flowers—both pristine white, one blooming early in the spring and the other in late summer and into the fall.

A rose of sharon can be grown from a slip, which is how many pioneer women brought their shrubs and trees to Oregon. At the right time, slice off a branch, protect it on the long trip west, and when they got to their new home, plant it in the ground, nurture it and hope for new growth.

Every winter my rose of sharon is only bare branches, looking all but dead. In the spring, the leaves sprout. With late summer the beautiful, exotic white blossoms appear. It is at its most beautiful when many other flowers in my garden are wilting down, tired of a long summer blooming. It did fit the premise of my story. Actually the analogy works for all of us who are old-- or could.

After writing about it, I knew I had to have a rose of sharon for my own garden. I now have three but two keep getting eaten back by the sheep. This one is behind protective lattice fencing. Some years are better than others for its blooms and this is such a year.

The plant looks pretty from a distance with all its white blossoms, but its greatest beauty is in its parts, in coming close and looking into its depths. The interior of a flower is so much more beautiful than what you see at a distance. The rose of sharon's petals are satiny, as they open to expose these beautiful tiny accents-- such a sensual plant. Hummingbirds (who are already gone from here), bees and other insects love it.

For several days I found great satisfaction in photographing these blooms in various lightings with the Canon Rebel using both the EFS 18-55mm and the EF 100-400mm lenses (part of a healthy garden break from thinking too much about negatives). I liked best the 18-55mm for satisfying my desire to move almost into the blossom. With it, I felt more part of the plant's environment. The telephoto forces me back about 4 feet but provides sharp detail while muting the background.