The multiflora rose season has just ended and what a pity.

I know there are those who don’t like the delicate, fragrant white rose clusters that edged West Tisbury fields. I am told that multiflora roses are invasive and that it was all a mistake when the first of them were planted in the 1950s or 1960s to border up-Island fields. It is true that I must now duck under a sharp-thorned multiflora rose bush to get to my compost heap, but why should I mind? The rose fragrance perfumes the air and disguises the compost heap’s onion and cabbage smells.

In my backyard beyond the compost heap, there is a bower of multiflora roses that would be a perfect wedding bower. As I enter the road to my house, I know I am coming home because of the multitude of delicate white roses that nod a greeting when a wind blows and always so softly scent the air. And I understand that even if some of my neighbors wish that these rambling roses had never been planted, I am in good company in liking them. The Pulitzer Prize-winning author Louis Bromfield thought highly enough of multiflora roses to encircle the fields of his Malabar Farm with them in the 1920s and 1930s.

Soft pink and deep red roses grow in my proper flower garden, but they are hidden among plump peonies and tall irises. And in the way of so many contemporary roses, they have been bred to perfect beauty, but are without scent.

By contrast, the multifloras tumble so gracefully over stone walls and rail fences, gleam along up-Island roadsides and delicately perfume the air.

Invasive species they may be, but what a charming one.