world’s thorniest rose?

I grew this fiercely thorny rose, Rosa minu­ti­fo­lia, for over a decade. With wild-rose-pink flow­ers barely two inches across, its petals were crin­kled and del­i­cate, but the blooms were never par­tic­u­larly stun­ning when com­pared to the buxom, botoxed blooms of typ­i­cal gar­den roses. The leaves were tiny to the point of almost being non-existent, and I’ve already men­tioned the incred­i­ble num­ber of thorns that made this just about the prick­li­est thing I’ve ever dealt with. (The only sim­i­larly thorny roses I can think of are a few heir­loom moss roses like Alfred de Dal­mas that I grew in my early teen rose-growing years.) So spiny is it that one of its early col­lec­tors pro­posed an alter­nate name for it: Rosa hor­rida. (Check out the fas­ci­nat­ing tale of its dis­cov­ery by Bar­bara Ert­ter here.)

In the end, I think I grew it partly because of its weirdly cool thorni­ness and its inter­est­ing story, but also because of its arti­fi­cial, polit­i­cal rar­ity. In the United States, this rose is found only as a small island pop­u­la­tion along the Mex­i­can bor­der on Otay Mesa, here in San Diego County. This extreme rar­ity has placed it on California’s endan­gered species list. Skip south into Mex­ico a few dozen miles, how­ever, and the plant begins to become a fairly com­mon mem­ber of the chap­ar­ral plant com­mu­nity, form­ing great mounded thick­ets three to four feet high and many feet across. The notion that the plant is par­tic­u­larly rare is an arti­fact of national bound­aries. Erase the US-Mexico bor­der, and Rosa minu­ti­fo­lia becomes a main­stay of part of the pan-Californian ecosystem.

I find that to be a weird lit­tle men­tal game: Is the plant rare or not? What odd things do polit­i­cal bound­aries do to how we under­stand the nat­ural world that those bound­aries are drawn over? Does that mean that it’s crazy to call this an endan­gered plant?

To that last ques­tion, I’ll answer that we really should con­sider it a plant to pro­tect. We need to pre­serve what’s left of the diver­sity that remains in the world. If the plant goes extinct in Cal­i­for­nia, it’s gone from Cal­i­for­nia. Never mind that it has cousins south of the border.

Bor­der­lands, Con­ti­nen­tal Divide pro­duced by The Cor­nell Lab of Ornithol­ogy from iLCP on Vimeo.

And these days the purely con­cep­tual notion of a national bor­der is turn­ing into a phys­i­cal real­ity, as the ginor­mous bor­der fence project turns the United States into a freak­ish zoo exhibit behind bars as this video pro­duced by the Cor­nell Lab of Ornithol­ogy shows. (I also did a brief post related to all this recently, on the destruc­tion of Smuggler’s Gulch.) When the only know U.S. pop­u­la­tion of this plant is fur­ther iso­lated from its south­ern kin, it becomes all the more des­per­ate to pre­serve what lit­tle we have left.

When we were prepar­ing the back yard for a small room addi­tion we needed to move a few plants out of the way. My Rosa minu­ti­fo­lia was one of them. Used to near-desert con­di­tions, the plant shoots down roots far into the ground, maybe even 20 feet deep. I guess I didn’t get enough of the roots, not to men­tion the fact that the trans­plant took place in the high heat of sum­mer. The plant declined and then died over the course of a cou­ple months.

I see the plant here and there. A native plant sale might have a few plants. The Tree of Life Nurs­ery stocks it. Botan­i­cal gar­dens some­times have a lit­tle thicket of it (or a mas­sive thicket of it as is the case at Ran­cho Santa Ana Botan­i­cal Gar­den where “five rooted cut­tings planted…in 1954 had become ‘one large tan­gled mass’ nearly 30 feet across by 1982″ [ source ]). All these pho­tos are from the Huntington’s Desert Gar­den, where the rose grows along­side cac­tus and other things that make its spini­ness look right at home.

I get nos­tal­gic when­ever I see it. My lit­tle plant, which was set in awful, dense, dry soil in a much too shady spot, never grew or flow­ered much. Nip­ping at the dead branches kept it from form­ing a Rosa hor­rida thicket. But I con­tin­ued to cod­dle it for what­ever rea­sons any of us cod­dle inter­est­ing, under-performing plants. And one of these days I wouldn’t be sur­prised if I plant another lit­tle thicket of it.

January 08 2010 | Categories: gardeningmy gardenplacesplant profiles | Tags: | 6 Comments »