cre·pus·cule (kre-pus-kyool)
n. Twilight.
[Middle English, from Old French, from Latin crepusculum, from creper, dark.]
I make no secret of the fact that I really don't like the name of this rose. I know ... 'twilight' ... such a romantic time of day ... but 'Crepuscule' always gets stuck on my tongue. To me, it sounds like something you need a vaccination to prevent.
I may not care for its name, but I sure love the rose.
'Crepuscule' is a Tea Noisette, introduced in France in 1904 by Francis Debreuil. It will easily climb 12 feet, covering a structure with its sweet smelling, golden apricot flowers.
I planted Crepuscule on the East Fence in the Rose Field, in a spot that gets full sun all day. I keep it trained relatively flat to the fence, spreading the branches as horizontally as possible to encourage more flowers.
I resisted adding this rose to the garden ... it was the name. I still can't hardly say it. Crepuscule. It's not getting any easier.
Whatever you call it, this is one great rose!
And now the moment you've been waiting for ... the winner of the June Giveaway is
Since she lives in Arizona, and I'm not licensed to ship plants there, I'll go to my stash of lovely rosy treasures and send her something special. (Please contact me with your mailing address, and I will get your package into the mail right away.)