When we first bought our old farmhouse in the woods in Upstate New York, I was somewhat disappointed to find that there were no old rose briars on the property. I made it my mission to plant some old species roses. After having grown up in a two hundred year old house in New England, I had grown accustom to overgrown wild old species roses. We had many varieties from single petal to double bloom in vibrant shades of pinks and whites. I love the way the perfume of a rose hangs heavy on a humid summer day. As luck would have it, there was an abandoned house just up the raod fom us where an eccentric old man named Edgar had lived. In his front yard were the most beautiful double bloom pink roses. They had grown into a wicked pile of bramble, canes, and thorns amidst the blackberry scrub. Very carefully we dug a few plants and trannsfered them to our place... and now after many years Edgar's roses have grown accustomed to thier new home.We have heard from locals that two women, visiting family at the nearby farmhouse in the late 1800's, brought the roses from England. This past weekend as I walked across the yard the thick spicy bloom of roses hung in the air.