I have a weakness for roses and white picket fences, especially when the canes are so weighed down with blossoms they spill over onto the sidewalk. The combination is so classic and simply pretty it is almost cliche. However, it never fails to stop me in my tracks. This morning I had to snap a few pictures. Phoebe was confused as to why we were stopping again. She had places to be and other dogs to impress at the park.
I am fairly certain this rose is a variety called “Cherry Parfait”. It always struggled when I grew it on the east coast. When I bought it I loved the description of the “light apple scent.” Rose catalogs are an exercise in the highest forms of hyperbole.