When you have tried every supposedly hardy type of rose there is and still they die, previous filtered out options become the new options. Where I come from, rugosa roses and rugosa hybrids were a staple of public greeneries. And since those public plantings were almost always equated with dullness, mediocrity and boredom, rugosas were off limits. However, the scent of roses is to a garden what spices are to a well prepared dish; it contributes to making the composition delicious and sensuous. So, fixed positions wither as reality yet again pulls down the curtain to an envisaged scene. Enter rugosas. I am grateful for not giving up and now being greeted by the sweet wafts of scent from 'Pink Roadrunner' (terrible name) every morning on my rounds of observation and fascination. As the clouds over the world turn darker, that scent I will remember.