In client gardens I need to be (at least comparatively) practical, simple, reliable. On the home front, though?
More is marvelous, denser is delightful, higher is hilarious, complex is (oh-oh: an adjective beginning with C?), uh, complimentary.
So let's start with the flowers of this terrific climbing rose, Darlow's Enigma. It's just coming into bloom—and in July! (Who needs another rose in bloom in May and June?)
And its clusters of white, single flowers push all my easy buttons. (Moreover, new flowers have yellow pollen—lovely indeed—but in a day or so the pollen ripens (or is harvested by bees?) to the dark-brown dots that show up, if anything, even better. Wonderful!) Darlow's thorns help the bush climb, regardles of how much blood it costs a nearby human. Look how each thorn arches just a bit downward.
The more a branch is tugged away from its support, the more deeply the thorns dig in. Even the leaves help. Look along the bottom of the leaf-stem at the center of the picture, that slants gently to the right: Tiny downward and curved thornettes there too.
And so where will Darlow climb? That's no enigma at all. Here's Darlow set well back in the Winter Garden bed, surrounded by much taller bushes and even trees. (Shade tolerance is yet another of Darlow's talents.)
To Darlow's left is the trunk of a young cut-leaf alder, Alnus glutinosa 'Imperialis'
Alders aren't at all common in East Coast gardens. (Their hardiness and tolerance of poorly-drained soil, though, make them prime choices for cold damp gardens anywhere.)
Imperialis's cut-leaf foliage is distinctively lacy.
And the tree grows fast—so fast, actually, that it both needs and tolerates a serious early-Spring pruning.
And so I'm growing mine as a pollard. It got its first pruning just this Spring—just a light going over, plus "a little of the top". It's already pushed out two-foot wands of such showy foliage!

I'm hoping that when the tree gets its annual "full pollard"—all branches cut back to a stub each Spring—the growth will be, if anything, even more exuberant.
And how does Darlow's Enigma fit in here? Well, that's the enigma. On the one hand, how terrific to have sprays of white flowers spangling the alder. (Alders get catkin-type blooms, like birches, in early Spring. Some are showy in their own right. But in Summer, alders don't in themselves provide a floral display.)
On the other hand (the pricked and bleeding one), how will I pollard the alder once the ultra-thorny Darlow has climbed up into it? Would I have to reach in to the center of the rose-enshrouded canopy (wearing elbow-length leather gloves?) to cut each branch and then yank it out and free of the tight-clinging rose? Wow, that would be easy. Or would I cut off all the rose's top stems right along with the alder's top branches? Yummy: A double decapitation! Easier, conceptually delicious—"two, two, two heads at once!"‚ and probably just as effective. But only "probably". Part of the enigma about Darlow is that none of my books (nor any on-line links I can Google) say much about it. Maybe that's part of the enigma right there. No one knows a thing. Judging how late the flowers are—starting in July, remember—it seems clear that they are at the tips of new growth, not old growth. So cutting off the top few feet of last year's Darlow canes, we can hope, would just help Darlow bloom even better. She wouldn't "bloom her head off", though. She'd "bloom her head back on."