A Romance of Roses

It is one of my dreams to go to Turkey when the roses are blooming. I dream of walking amongst endless rose fields and throwing myself into the sheds of roses where they distill the oils. I can imagine few greater joys.
While I'm waiting to visit Turkey, I take the kids to the Morwell Rose Garden, and while there aren't exactly fields of roses in all directions, the roses are spectacular and the scent of them clouds around you and drifts over you and you can walk through numerous rose beds and rose draped pavillions in a delightful dream. The kids love running down the paths and climbing the walls (ahem) and I walk around joyfully, taking photos. I've tried to narrow the photos down, with little luck. I am afraid I am a rose addict. They are all so beautiful, the scent so intoxicating.
Luckily, my Sprocket left his toy behind, so we're going back tomorrow.

The problem, of course, is that I have a tendency to go - this rose is stunning. It really would look beautiful in my garden. I am trying to avoid (another) trip to the nursery. Particularly the specialist rose nursery near us. I know the best time to get roses is in winter when they're bare-rooted, but just look at them! The gardens around us are also full of beautiful blooms at present, which we always pause and admire. I am exceptionally happy with my own garden, and not a day has gone by this past fortnight when I haven't commented to my Beloved, 'have I mentioned how glorious my roses are?' to which he tends to reply 'not today' or 'not this hour.'

Are you a rose addict? Is there a cure?