Garden visiting, looking at what is through the garden gate, especially those open for National Garden Scheme, with just an occasional foray here and there.
The sad news has been announced that Janet Muter the owner of Lake House, Brundall, Norfolk. has died peacefully at the age of 93. I remember fondly my visit to this extraordinary garden back in 2017, part of my ’90 adventure’ and so, I wish to share it with you again.
Janet had lovingly restored this garden, set on a steep slope, it was once known as ‘The Switzerland of Norfolk’.
The garden was originally created in 1880 by a Dr Beverley who, along with planting an arboretum, dug out a cascade of ponds as seen in the centre of the postcard below. An entrepreneur named Frederick Holmes-Cooper then purchased the grounds in 1917, built a new house for his family which he called ‘Redclyffe’ and set about making ‘Brundall Gardens’ a visitor attraction with a fine hotel and restaurant.
Map of the garden 1920
In 1922 it was reported that 60,000 people flocked to see the gardens. Visitors travelled by bicycle, foot, rail and river, disembarking at the jetty just by the restaurant.
Arriving by boat
Sadly I could not arrive by boat and had to opt for the car. It was a similar time of year to now, a cold April day. Janet Muter was warm and welcoming and told me the story of how she had restored the garden. She and her husband bought a newly-built house on the site in the 1980s, just above the cascade and set about restoring the garden. It had suffered much neglect since its closure in the 1930s and subsequent requisition during the war when the property was used as an enemy aircraft plotting station.
I was very touched when Janet presented me with the book, Rescue of a Garden that she had recently written about the fascinating history of her garden.
So, I cannot resist starting our tour with a picture of the house taken from the book showing the building in 1986, which she describes amusingly as ”A house undressed”:
Photo of the house taken from Rescue of a garden by Jane Muter
No longer so ‘undressed’, it is clothed in mahonia and clematis armandii, and smelling delicious,
with an attractive little border that softens the hard landscape by the front door:
From the house we cross to the other side of the roadway which is in fact the drive to the neighbouring house. I have to confess I am a little confused; this is Lake House, but where is the lake? A rustic hut, shades of an alpine idyll, is surrounded by spring planting.
Stepping back over towards the house I admire the welcome signs of spring in the flower bed, and continue to wonder at the apparent lack of water.
Then, walking through the trees towards the south side of the house, I realise that this has just been the warm- up. The curtain rises, and as I look down, the spectacle unfolds; a series of three delightful ponds descending to a large lower lake, and then I understand why it has been named Lake House.
I am now standing on the patio where a collection of colourful acers grow in pots. You can see how the grassy slope falls away very steeply:
We gently follow the path down on the right-hand side admiring the mixture of mature trees and shrubs, some in flower, that have been planted over the years.
The large-handled pot points the way, and its shape is complimented by the planting surrounding it. Perhaps a gentle reminder that this was a site once inhabited by the Romans.
The first pond we come to is the smallest. There are no straight lines in this garden; pool, plants and pots smoothly flow in gentle curves. On occasions, a fountain plays in the centre.
The path leads away from the water’s edge down through swathes of ground cover; vinca, pulmonarias, lamium and ivy dotted with white honesty.
The Bluebell flowers are just emerging around the multi-stemmed tree and I catch glimpses of water through the twisting the branches,
and finally at the furthest point we venture out through the trees to arrive at the lily lake at the lowest level.
Large and untamed, the lake was almost inaccessible back in 1985 when the Muters moved here.
They cleared fallen trees, excess reeds, and rushes. Janet has always been mindful of the wildlife, the enjoyment of which is an important part of this garden. A beach was created and the gravel path seems to ebb and flow in harmony with the water’s edge.
There are some lovely gems growing on this side; the exquisite aronia melonocarpa,
and pinky darmera peltata, its large leaves yet to emerge.
Water lilies spread out in the manner of Monet, growing across the lake from the far side, where the silence is broken by the sound of a railway and a train that rattles by.
After a while we ascend the side of the lower pond where sweet woodruff grows amongst the fresh green unfurling fronds of the ferns.
At the head of the lower pond we cross over and look back. It is deep and requires dredging every year.
The middle pond is in fact in the care of the neighbour. Annually it is drained to remove the leaves. These water gardens do not just flow timelessly, they need maintenance. There has not been much rainfall in recent months and so the water level is low.
The top pond has a variety of plants emerging around its edge and it is the selection of lime green euphorbias that catches my eye today,
with the ajuga edging the carrstone wall. The stone would have originally been brought over from the western side of Norfolk.
An old tree trunk supporting a climbing rose combines with an ancient pot to provide a touch of antiquity.
We are grateful to have gentle steps to climb this last part but I worry that I have kept Janet outside for too long. A hardy type as she might be, she is an octogenarian and it is a chilly day.
We pause on the top step to take in one last look over the haze of light blue periwinkle. I am in awe as to how someone can garden on such steep terrain.
Watery, wonderful and steep this can have been no easy garden to restore and maintain. It is hard to believe that for half a century it was hidden away beneath the undergrowth. Janet’s enthusiasm for gardening was obvious but it was also the fact that she was so keen to share her garden with others, which she did. I quote from Janet’s book:
‘And in 25 years of opening my garden I have never known anyone leave litter or steal so much as a cutting, well not when I was looking anyway. Whilst rescuing my garden it has helped to raise thousands of pounds for many charities, but mainly for the National Garden Scheme.’
Personally I feel honoured to have visited this extraordinary garden, and to have met Janet. I will indeed treasure the book she so kindly gave me:
The weather is perhaps a little inclement to be visiting gardens, so what better than to stay warm and look at art. The Garden Museum is holding an exhibition of Lucian Freud’s paintings of plants and gardens. You will undoubtedly know Freud for his portraits and vast landscapes of flesh, rather than matters horticultural, but this small exhibition, the first of its kind is brilliantly curated and well worth a visit. Freud was neither a plantsman nor a gardener, however, this exhibition shows how plants played an important part of his life, and how he captured his plant subjects in his inimitable style, similar at times to his treatment of humans.
Painter’s Garden, 2003-2004
Freud had a garden which his studio assistant David Dawson described: “he planted things and then let them grow, grow, and grow. He never touched anything because he wanted the garden to have a sense of real of naturalness.” ‘The thick and unruly growth offered him a sense of a lush and enclosed private space, gritty and understated.’ I can only imagine he would have welcomed the re-wilding movement.
But let’s begin at the beginning. Lucian was born in Berlin, the middle son of the Jewish architect Ernst L. Freud, who was himself the fourth child of the famous psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud. Lucian was named after his mother Lucie Brasch who had studied classical philology and art history.
Schlumbergera bridgesii
His mother kept several of his childhood paintings including this small picture of a pot plant, the familiar Christmas Cactus Schlumbergera which he drew in some detail when he was eight years old.
The family escaped the Nazi regime by moving to London in 1933 when Lucian was 10 years old. It must have been a confusedly uprooting experience and perhaps it was little wonder that he became a disruptive pupil.
At age seventeen in 1939, he was one of the earliest students to attend the recently-formed East Anglian School of Painting and Drawing at Benton End in Suffolk.https://gardenmuseum.org.uk/the-garden-museum-announces-plans-to-revive-cedric-morris-suffolk-home-benton-end-as-a-centre-of-art-and-gardening/ It was run by Cedric Morris and his partner Arthur Lett-Haines. The school prospectus described the school as “an oasis of decency for artists outside the system”. Lett-Haines taught theory, whilst Morris taught by encouragement and example. Morris was hugely interested in plants and Freud enjoyed his unconventional and experimental method of teaching. In 1941 he served as a merchant seaman in an Atlantic convoy journeying to Halifax, Nova Scotia, only to be invalided out of service in 1942. For a short while after that he attended The Goldsmiths’ College.
Gorse Sprig, 1944
The Garden Museum explains that ‘Freud saw beauty and truth in the seemingly unremarkable, the overlooked, and the imperfect. He painted weeds and the straggly potted plants that followed him from home to home throughout his life. He rarely idealised plants but instead concentrated on the architectural form and linearity, their texture and even their crumbling and decaying flesh.’ While Freud portrays in great detail the spiny nature of the Gorse Sprig, there is only a suggestion of the bright yellow flowers. The painting was included in his first solo exhibition at Alex Reid and Lefevre Gallery in 1944.
The Glass Tower
Freud received several commissions to illustrate books. In 1944 Freud was paid £40 (£2,270 in today’s money) to illustrate Nicholas Moore’s edition of poetry The Glass Tower, using a palm tree that he had purchased from the Loudon Road Nursery. He gave the book a striking cover. Other books included James Pope Hennessy’s Aspects of Provence and The Baths of Absalom. He gave the book by Claire Joyes Claude Monet: Life at Giverny to artist Sophie de Stempel who sat for him over a period of eight years. He loved the book and Monet’s garden.
Ill in Paris, 1948
This portrait Illin Paris, 1948 is of Kitty Garman,painted just before they were married. Her face takes centre stage with the rose. The Garden Museum identifies this as ‘the starting point of later plant and human encounters in which the artist casts the plant as equal to the sitter or placed the plant in the foreground.’ Freud and Kitty were divorced in 1952.
Still Life with Zimmerlinde, c. 1950
Freud’s second wife was Caroline Blackwood who he married in 1952 and to whom he dedicated Still life with Zimmerlinde, c.1950. Zimmerlinde is the German name for Sparrmannia africana a houseplant also known as the Cape Linden Tree. Zimmerlinde refers to the origin of the plant native to South African Cape, as well as the similarity, in particular the shape of the leaf, to the Linden (Lime) Tree. All Zimmerlinde painted by Freud are said to be descendants of plants originally grown by Sigmund Freud in Vienna which he brought to London after fleeing the Nazi regime, and have been propagated and shared by members of the family ever since.
Cyclamen, 1964
With his wife Caroline, Freud bought a secluded, stone seventeenth-century manor house in Dorset, where in the dining room he began a mural of cyclamen. After his divorce in 1959 he made London his home where he remained until his death. He became fond of white fragrant flowers, although he rarely painted them. He would rise before dawn and visit Covent Garden Flower Market and buy huge quantities of flowers for the house. Cyclamen were his favourite and would brighten tables and mantlepieces in Autumn.
Small Fern, 1967
The exhibition explains ‘This highly unusual composition encapsulates Freud’s originality in approaching plants.’ Not a ‘showy’ plant adorned with flowers, is it the position, placed on the floor and seen from above, that draws our eye to it?
Wasteground Paddington, 1970
Many of us may have glimpsed this view from a window and probably not given it a second look. Freud looked at it in detail, bringing the feral buddleia and bushes to life amongst the rubbish-strewn backyard, and painting a sort of anti-garden. It is a ‘brutally honest portrayal of the hardship that urban life can entail for both humans and plants’.
Two Plants, 1977-1980
In 1977 Freud moved into a new studio in Holland Park. Two Plants, 1977-1980 portrays Helichrysum petiolare, the liquorice plant and Aspidistra elatior, the cast iron plant. This painting began as an opportunity to become accustomed to the lighting quality of his new studio. Over a three year span he wanted to capture the movement of the plants in how they died, regenerated, and produced new leaves. Two Plants could be described as a botanical painting but it is also a plant portrait portraying a period of time that neither photography nor film could capture. It is also painting that you would be forgiven for looking at for hours.
Landscape, c. 1993
This detailed etching of a piece of turf is a rare work. Freud’s focus is shifted away from the individuality of a single plant. The title of the work underlines the move from the singular to the plural and examines the texture and chaotic arrangement of the turf close up. He started work on this etching while on holiday in Tuscany, bringing the turf back with him to London in order to finish the work.
After Constable’s Elm, 2003
In the 1930s when Freud was at the East Anglian School of Painting and Drawing he had attempted to copy John Constable’s work but found it too difficult. In 2002 he was asked to curate an exhibition about Constable at the Grand Palais in Paris. His selection featured less known works of art like The Study of the Trunk of an ElmTree (1821). He returned to the challenge and reinterpreting Constable’s work, dropping the word Study in order to emphasise the individuality of the plant from the technicality that a study might imply.
We return to cyclamen. In 1959, Freud was one of the first guest to be invited to Chatsworth House when the 11th Duke of Devonshire moved his family back into the vacated property. In one of the small private bathrooms he began another mural of cyclamen, flowers, buds and leaves. The estate greenhouse supplied pot after pot of flowers for him to paint. It was never finished and as he left behind his paints, it was thought that he might return to complete the bathroom.
Garden in Winter, 1997-1999
The Garden in Winter is surely an appropriate title to end this blog. The curator writes ‘Freud’s garden in Notting Hill had become a wilderness bursting with unbridled energy. It was overgrown and impenetrable and yet, at times during the day, brilliantly bathed in glistening sunshine. There was a glory in Freud’s vision of what most would consider a gardening nightmare. The artist’s search for truth wherever it might lurk became ever so poignant in the poetic roughness that makes the garden paintings and etchings from this period so memorable. With the buddleia at its centre, unkempt but enduring, Freud’s garden couldn’t be more at odds with traditional gardening and garden painting.’
Kew Gardens: a fascinating and beautiful place throughout the year, but during the Christmas period the gardens open in the evening and become a brilliant luminescent wonderland. Forgive the pun, but you could say that the gardens can be seen in a different light; indeed many lights.
Our tickets were for the 5pm slot, timed for the young grandchildren, and excitedly, we entered through the Victoria Gate. It was a freezing cold frosty night but little feet, not yet feeling the cold, were eager to explore the illuminated trail that took us under the branches of the many mature and wintry trees, some planted as long ago as the 18th Century.
Trees become so graceful in the winter, their branches stretching and twisting, and as they take on a different guise you can appreciate not only their strength and age but also their elegance too; this one warm and welcoming.
Others become artistic sculptures, lit up in a range of colours.
Whilst this tree might well have arrived from outer space,
this one is just so ancient and gloriously gnarled. I worry for a moment what the effect of all these lights might have on the fauna and flora and, as if reading my thoughts, an information board appeared advising us that:
‘We carry out a full ecology report to ensure our resident wildlife remains undisturbed throughout. We protect our bats, badgers and vulnerable trees through careful light and audio placements.’
We run on happily to the Palm House now glowing purple. This enormous glass house, the first to be built on this scale was designed by Decimus Burton and was constructed in 1844 by Richard Turner. In here the environment is kept hot and humid, housing numerous tropical plants.
Across the lake fountains play in vividly changing colours,
and moving round to the other side of the Palm House, we see a line of sparkling standards and behind them the 16,000 panes of toughened glass, some of which are curved, change colour and glow red. This evening the Palm House is firmly closed, keeping those precious tropical treasures from the freezing temperatures.
Moving lights project towards us and the music playing lifts our spirits,
and little eyes are entranced.
Deciduous or evergreen, each tree glows majestically,
the light reveals just how beautiful and tactile the bark can be.
It is not just about looking up, there is much happening down on the ground; summer flowers brightly paint the path, and autumn leaves flutter across.
We follow snowflakes glowing along the dark pathway,
and Christmas crackers pull us on towards what is known as the Cathedral.
An arch made up of a multitude of tiny lights rises majestically above us. We are below the busy flight path to Heathrow and I wonder what the gardens must look like from above, the light pollution must be huge. Another information board tells us that ‘This year, 75 per cent of the lights on the trail are LED. As soon as we can, we switch everything off to ensure the Gardens remain quiet and dark at night-time.’
Looking down on us from up on high, I am glad to see a familiar character beaming down on us. My grandson dismisses him swiftly assuring me that this is not the real Father Christmas, and on he hurries.
Long-stemmed flowers drip down from the branches. We stop for a quick ride on the fairground situated in front of The Temperate House. Little feet are getting cold now and hot chocolate is much needed. While I sip my mulled wine I discover that this great building is filled with an amazing 10,000 plants, a vast collection, grown so that in time they may help to find solutions to the world’s most pressing issues, from climate change to loss of biodiversity or food security.
We cross over a bridge spanning the water frozen hard for days, and beneath us a leaf is embedded artistically in the ice,
and further out a patterned pool gleams across the surface.
We are fortunate to have such a clear evening and the moonlight adds to the magic.
Feathers seemingly float
and birds perch in the tree.
The twelve jolly days of Christmas are a delight, cleverly woven in willow by Woody Fox from Devon.
I cannot imagine how long it must have taken to hang the lights on this old Oak. We are informed that ‘Kew has its own ‘Tree Gang’ who carry out the intricate placement of the thousands of hanging lights. This ensures the trees are protected and looked after by those who know best.’
We are nearly at the end of the trail and we find ourselves looking back across the lake to the Palm House, its appearance eased into a shade of blue.
Lights beam dramatically across the lake and music plays.
and as the fountains rise in front of us, the dramatic statue of Hercules wrestles with a serpent.
We have all been entertained handsomely, children and adults together have been totally absorbed. Kew has been putting on a light show for the past 10 years with each one different. What a great way to encourage visitors to a garden during the cold winter months; perhaps in time more private gardens will follow suit.
The garden at Caldrees Manor is one of the last in the season to open for the National Garden Scheme. Situated not far from the A11 in Cambridgeshire it was the ideal place to meet up with friend Leslie.
Although parking was in a field away from the house, we could not help but admire this welcoming driveway with its elegant centrepiece situated in front of the house and surrounded by a delightful planting of shrubs.
We had come for a guided tour with Will who with the garden owner John, has been responsible for creating this large garden over the past twenty years. He takes us through the gate and around to the other side of the house.
A verdurous space appears before us framed by the rose arch; there is a lot going on, but instead of descending through and down the steps, we turn right towards the summer house.
This ornamental folly with its generous door surround, and windows seemingly wide-eyed, is surrounded by a rich planting of summer flowers now coming to an end but there is still a good display for the time of year and we particularly commend the combination of michaelmas daisy, hydrangea and pennisetum.
Brunnera is such a good plant, its blue flowers on show for weeks in the spring and the silvery leaves continue to be a beauty defying any attack from slug or snail.
Will and his wife Jacqueline https://www.jwlandscapes.co.uk/ have their own landscape business and this is their flagship garden. This brick bridge was one of the first features that Will built.
Pergolas bring variety and height, and act as partitions from one area of the garden to another. We leave the more formal area and enter the acer glade,
where a great variety of specimens are grown, some still green whilst others are on fire with colour.
The leaves are as beautiful on the ground as they are on the tree. We follow the path through the metalwork arbor into the hydrangea area unperturbed by the summer’s drought.
The air is filled with the scent from a viburnum; it’s a wonder that this insignificant flower produces such a fragrance.
Here too is the sound of rushing water, its source not apparent at first, until we find it gushing from a pipe. There is no shortage of water here as we are apparently standing on a giant lake and the water is being pumped from a borehole.
Wooden signposts guide the way, beautifully carved; we love the papilionem touch at the top.
Silver birch planted in a group is an acknowledged theme and it works well here underplanted with cornus sanguinea ‘midwinter fire’ and bergenia.
As summer flowers fade, the sculptural blooms become more pronounced.
There is a touch of humour in this garden as the quite unexpected appears through the jungle of greenery,
and is that really a water buffalo I see at the side of the pond?
From the winding paths in the old wood we enter an open space where a new wood has been planted. It is pretty impressive seeing that it is just three years old. How will it look in another twenty?
This new wood has such a different feel and we love the splash of sculpture at the end.
Returning towards the house we walk through the fairly recently created Japanese garden; plants, rocks and gravel carefully considered in the design.
From here we can go towards the orchard, along the drive which is neatly edged on one side with silver lavender, and on the other, scattered seedlings are allowed to grow but carefully controlled,
and return to end our tour between the Japanese garden and the pond at these beautiful carved wooden conkers; smooth shiny polished surfaces, there is an irresistible urge to run your hands over them.
Heading back for the much needed coffee and cake we pass the quirky topiary, and then there is a sudden sound of a distant crash. Will looks concerned.
Despite there being no wind, the noise is of a fallen tree that has crashed across the path. Not what you want on an open day but no harm has been done and there are plenty of other paths to take, and different areas to explore. Such a variety of species to admire, and sculptures to search out, we have enjoyed our time, and it has been a great place to meet; why don’t we do this more often ? We both agree and promise to meet up in another garden next year.
Caldrees Manor opened for the first time in October 2020 and by opening its very private gates has raised a trug-load of funds for the National Garden Scheme. It is taking a year off but am sure it will open its gates again for many more visitors to enjoy in the future.
A few weeks ago I was staying near Aberfeldy in Perthshire and having walked the delightfully rugged ‘Birks of Aberfeldy’, I decided to visit the tamer landscape of a garden open for Scotland’s Gardens Scheme https://scotlandsgardens.org/bolfracks
Bolfracks, how could I resist with a name like that, is open everyday from 1st April – 31st October. You enter through the summer house, look at the map and take the path which rises steeply behind.
A druidic specimen of an evergreen conifer Cryptomeria japonica, confronts us and with a twist of the trunk beckons us on up the slope,
where we find the graceful Acer griseum; we pause for a moment, breathe in the scent of autumn and take in the distant landscape emerging through its ascending branches.
It is so much about trees at this time of year, and where better do the birches grow than in this part of the world. This is the Chinese red birch Betula albosinensis.
There is plenty to see on the autumnal ground; curious cones,
the bewitching but poisonous white goblets of Colchicum autumnale ‘Album’,
and another little toxic gem, that iconic toadstool, the fly agaric Amanita muscaria.
Identified on the map and to the right of the path is the Old privy, a ruin now it provides comfort only to a variety of ferns.
A little further up the path is the pond where giant leaves of the Gunnera almost hide the dark peaty water where water lilies bloom. It rained all morning and now the sky is a generous blue revealing the distant hillside.
The well-made steps take us gently further up the garden. They are an art form in themselves.
The lichen clambers eagerly up the trunks of the trees, a sign of the air being so good here,
it is an intriguing plant remaining this soft silvery shade of green all year round, it grows everywhere.
We weave in and out of the different areas, stepping through the gentle sleeping lions into the area known as the burial ground,
not for a moment a sombre place, but an area rich with colour of the maples that are beginning their autumnal display; how do they manage it ?
There is a touch of the alpine as we come to the Wendy house, but catching the sound of the distant stags beginning their rut we are reminded that we are in Scotland.
This is not a young garden, there are many mature shrubs; well planted, with much to see throughout the year. Plenty of engaging features like this wooden bridge,
a variety of dry stone gateways,
and flights of sturdy stone steps, through the moss-covered walls,
until we have reached the summit, where the path traverses along the top of the slope and with joyful colchicums growing under a multitude of roses that promise to bloom again next summer.
A path descends back down to the house, an herbaceous border running alongside showing that summer is not yet over, as there are still splashes of colour. The long descent emphasises the steepness and shows what a masterclass of gardening it is on a slope.
This garden was created during a time when teams of gardeners were in attendance, times have changed and it is easy to understand the need for modern maintenance, perhaps forgiving the slightly shaggy appearance of the lawn only to discover the mowing machine has crash-landed in a flowerbed;
maybe modern mowers are distracted by the appearance of a rainbow, even though it is somewhere over the River Tay.
There is a wide variety of Rowan trees that I did not know existed, this beauty is Sorbus sargentiana.
We leave the long border of rugosa roses running along the bottom of the garden, their ripe and delicious shiny red hips glowing with late summer happiness.
The garden has opened for the Scotland’s Gardens Scheme for some 47 years, with a change of owners in recent years it is admirable that the present owners still allow us to visit, and it is a delight.
On my way to London last Sunday I took the opportunity to visit St. Paul’s Walden Bury, just off the A1M in Hertfordshire which was open for the National Garden Scheme https://ngs.org.uk/. Appropriately a fine statue of Charity was there to greet us at the entrance.
Standing with our backs to the house on the north side there are three allées lined with crisply cut beech, which radiate out from the lawn and away, down then up, to three ‘eye catchers’ in the distance. This is an 18th Century landscape, the design is known as patte d’oie (goose foot), and my rather flat photo does nothing to prepare you for the sense of scale.
On the lawn just in front of the patte d’oie, a powerful show of masculine strength positively exudes from the two life sized statues; on the left Hercules and Antaeus are entwined with their struggle (a copy of Giambologna’s) whilst on the right Samson is meeting it out of the two Philistines (a copy of Michaelangelo’s).
The three allées lead up to their individual eye catchers on the horizon; the left hand allée draws the eye to a gentler statue; this is of Diana (identical to the one in the Louvre),
the middle allée, the wider of the three, although it is difficult to see, has a statue of Hercules, who we will meet later.
The third allée, the most easterly on the right is perfectly aligned to see the parish church of St. Paul’s Walden Bury.
Two gnarled pleached lime walks flank the lawn in front of the house, and it is from the right hand one that we begin our journey:
An ornate aged stone bench with its equally aged magnolia draws us through and under the pleached branches of the limes,
where we turn right down the stone steps which are sweetly softened by the chance growth of primroses.
We stride off towards the lake, where boughs of blossom and drifts of daffodils grow in harmony on the grassy bank.
The lakeside temple gleaming white looks as if it has been here since the creation of the landscape; however, it was designed by Sir William Chambers in the 18th century for Danson Park, near Bexley Heath and was removed in 1961 to this present site. Surely this is an example of recycling at its best.
Two parallel avenues cross the three main allées and the recycled temple lines up to another temple at the end of the lower avenue. This temple is also recycled, this one was designed by James Wyatt and was removed in 1950 from Copped Hall in Essex.
Rather than going straight across to, shall we call it, the salvaged temple, we turn right and head up the hill taking the very eastern allée. Stopping for a moment to admire the tender statue by Peter Scheemakers of Venus, the goddess of love with Adonis the young hunter; we can’t help thinking that he might have something in his eye?
The areas between the allées are mainly wooded with an occasional splash of a rhododendron.
Continuing up the hill we reach the charming little octagonal brick pavilion dating from 1735, the reason for its name the ‘Organ House’ is not clear.
From here you look down the most northern avenue towards Hercules who also acts as the eye catcher of the central allée,
Hercules has a sweeping view of the house.It is evident that we are close to Luton airport but it is not just the planes that fly over head.
The allee does not stop directly here but carries on behind Hercules into the countryside. I cannot help but admire the carved-out tree trunk step-over style, standing nearby.
It is like a mythological trail; from Hercules we cross to Diana who stands as the third most westerly eye-catcher. An 18th century statue she is identical to that of one in the Louvre but with a jaunty moss hair do. Descending towards the house we come to a clearing; it is a turf theatre with classical formal pond and bronze statue of a warrior below, and two sphinxes with a temple above. It is a quiet controlled space, a contrast to the surrounding wild mature woodland.
The sphinxes are most elegant, one has a bow around her neck the other in her hair, they too have come from Copped Hall and are believed to be portraits of the mistresses of Louis XV, who went by the name of Louis the Beloved.
We wonder, not only at the movement of the static statue but also how he earned the name ‘the Running Footman’. Descending the mossy staircase,
we arrive at the salvaged temple originally seen from across the lake, and feeling we may have completed the 40 acres, think it is surely time for a cup of tea, so we make our way back to the house.
We pass the overgrown ruined orangery,
which must have been part of a more formal garden near to the house and where this photo was probably taken. St. Paul’s Walden Bury was the childhood home of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, apparently a gardener, she is seen here wheeling her barrow along with her brother Sir David Bowes-Lyon.
This fabulous and mighty oak must have seen many a childhood game played below its branches.
Teas are served from the west side of the house in a secluded courtyard, deliciously homemade they revived us heartily and we took the opportunity to read the guide book where I find, not surprisingly, the photos are so much better than mine.
We realise that in our eagerness to sample the teas we have missed yet another ‘Wrestling’ statue,
and have to hurry on to a wonderful urn containing the ashes of an adored pet, a dog who was ‘the most endearing of his species’,
and in a rustic pond we admire the ability of the cherub who has managed to ride the swan.
With a nod to Old Father Time, we thank the the good ladies who have worked so hard on the gate, and like the numerous visitors we have thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon ramble, and indeed as one lady said ‘Oh it is so good to get out’.
Yesterday I popped round to my local nursery, not so much to buy plants but out of intrigue; I am in Venice and until I watched Monty Don’s trip the other day I did not imagine that such a horticultural space existed in this unique city.
It is terribly easy to get lost in Venice but part of the joy was trying to find the nursery. So, with no TV crew to guide us, we relied on the map on my phone which confidently took us down delightful narrow alleyways, over little bridges and along watery canals in the Cannaregio district, and we arrived at Laguna Fiorita Onlus, where the gates, hanging between crumbling pillars, were wide open.
Through the gates we followed the paved path with troughs on one side planted with the beautiful but unattractively-sounding Trachelospermum, (the Italian name of Rincosperma is no better) and colourful tool sheds on the other. The doors are left wide open and I wonder that nothing gets stolen, but of course why should they, Venetians don’t garden.
Nonetheless the sheds are well stocked with all sorts of equipment for a decent days work, and the charming girl in the nursery explains that they are also employed to attend to some of the private gardens around the city. You never see these gardens for they are tucked away behind high walls.
An ingenious outdoor rack is fixed to an ordinary chip-board, brightened by a brush of blue.
It is not the handsome tree Pittosporum that I am amazed at but the site of soil, it is so unusual to see the bare earth anywhere in this watery city.
Walking on through another gate our Covid pass is checked and even though outside, the wearing of face masks is compulsory. We find the customary display of spring bulbs and I am surprised to find snowdrops still in flower.
‘Margherita’, along with its charming little cousin ‘Margherita piccole’ and yellow Euriops combine with evergreens to look so familiar and reminiscent of home.
No doubt the usual collection of herbs will find their way to someone’s Venetian kitchen.
Yet, it is the decaying walls which surround the nursery that make it so unique. In her book on Venice Jan Morris refers to ‘the scent of crumbling antiquity’, and it is just that.
Barrows and ladders are propped against artful brick walls with secret doorways.
and from somewhere beyond, a saint rises up, if he could just glance this way for a moment, but up there he is perhaps a little too precarious,
and busy keeping an eye on his church door over on the other side.
I wonder at how many nurseries have their very own campanile.
From this neighbouring window you not only must look down on an array of plants but over to the lagoon beyond. Down on the small patch turf, I spy another rarity in this city; it is a clump of daisies.
Who in this city will buy these spring blossoms of pink and white?
Nothing beats the bright sulphur yellow of the mimosa, standing by the assistant in blue it is surely a sobering nod to the Ukrainian national flag.
The two long poly-tunnels are a reminder that this is a working nursery.
In one, bedding plants stretch out in lines, with a solitary petunia just reminding us that summer will be here soon.
In the other a variety of pots, plants and paraphernalia is for sale.
Over the years the nursery has broadened its services to specialise in forestry which probably accounts for the pile of tree cuttings gathered from the gardens which use their services.
There is no room for composting here and no call for wood chippings either, so they will be loaded onto a boat and taken away.
This nursery is about 500 square metres and not only raises and sells plants, maintains private gardens, but it is also a co-operative which was established thirty years ago when some parents and professionals got together to bring people with disabilities closer to a real working environment within a protective space.
It has been an interesting diversion from the churches, museums and galleries of this glorious city. I purchase some seeds as a little reminder of my visit and wonder if i might regret not acquiring this little gem.
It was a joy to be out visiting gardens again and on my way driving to Hay-on-Wye for a jolly weekend, I found a garden open for the National Garden Scheme just the other side of Leominster, and very conveniently for me it was open on the Thursday.
You do not need to be a gardener to know that gardens opening at this time of year are all about snowdrops, and you don’t have to be a gardener to enjoy them. At Ivy Croft splashes of welcoming snowdrops appear all around the garden, either in the borders where they seem to be nudging those perennials to hurry up and push through,
whether in clumps or drifts, growing in grass or under trees, snowdrops look so appealing and just give a little ray of hope.
These were keeping warm growing up against the house. Garden owner Roger could not remember the exact name of these ‘Galanthus elwesii, a comfort to me that even the experts can get the labels muddled.
We begin our exploration of this four acre garden with the area by the house. There are those familiar winter gems all around and growing near the front door is the divinely scented Chimonanthus praecox also known appropriately as Wintersweet. I regret taking the saw to mine and if you have not got one I urge you to go and buy one.
Below, the handsome clump of soft blue winter-flowering iris catches my eye. These Algerian iris Iris unguicularis flower from November through to February, the individual flowers look quite exotic in a vase.
All gardens look a little bare at this time of year but as we venture to the front of the house an elegant seat and stone troughs add another dimension,
and to embellish the scene there is nothing like a touch of topiary …
You can see how evergreens are a necessity in any garden particularly in winter; here they soften the hard landscape and guide you along the path past the reddish brown stems of the Acer griseum.
Every Spring I mourn the fact that I have not planted enough hellebores, and as Spring gathers apace, I simply forget. These just look so heavenly.
We need some colour at this time of year and what better plant than these cheeky cyclamen emerging out of the grey stone.
Walking away from the house, the vibrant stems of the Cornus draw us into the wilder area of the garden. Wild it may look but I know these parts of the garden can be a lot of work.
I can’t help but admire the green of the conifer, its branches elegantly flowing down to the ground and am surprised to find it is Chamaecyparis lawsoniana ‘Impricata Pendula’. If you check out The Woodland Trust website it cheerily informs you that the wood is rot-resistant which is popular in Japan for making coffins.
Gardens are not all about flowers; Roger uses woven willow in several places in the garden, either as a screen or as a quirky seat arbour.
and it is easy to forget the beauty of the small cones of the deciduous common alder Alnus glutinosa,
whilst the evergreen Garrya elliptica, drips with silver tassels. This is a bush which I find suffers the cold but dislikes the wind.
The garden was created some 25 years ago and has an air of maturity about it. Neat paths wander through wintery shrubs and trees, glimpsing every now and again the promise of spring,
and out in the open while the lawn looks so verdant and trim, the ornamental grasses seem to be experiencing a bad hair day.
How a drop of paint gives a simple wooden bench a touch of vibrancy, a focal point in a spacious area; the blue seems to blend harmoniously with the bright green.
A Mulberry is the central feature of the working vegetable garden, where paths are sensibly wide and firm waiting for the laden barrow to pass through the organised beds.
Surrounding the vegetable garden are trained fruit trees, one adorned with the mysterious mistletoe, which grows quite prolifically in the orchards around the county.
It is difficult not to admire this splash of Hamamelis mollis; several varieties grow in the garden, but this is near the car parking area and the scent is uplifting. To the right are the pleached limes underplanted with ‘oh so perfect’ box balls.
Behind the parking area is the whitest of birches contrasting with the evergreen fine yew buttresses, and what a perfect way to cheer up an unremarkable building. I am inspired to recreate the idea.
Roger is a true galanthophile and has collected and cultivated quite a selection: they are clearly labelled boasting endearing names. My friend Jill falls for a beautiful yellow ‘Treasure Island’ until we notice the price. To be fair it is not an unreasonable amount as some Snowdrops can reach staggering prices but we just aren’t in the market. So she goes for a different yellow, Galanthus ‘Spindlestone surprise’ while I settle for the ‘Godfrey Owen’ with its six outer petals, and also the virescent ‘Rosemary Burnham’, whose white petals look as though they have been brushed lightly with green.
Ivy Croft is open for the National Garden Scheme for Snowdrop Thursdays throughout February and March, and is open throughout the year. For details of this garden and other snowdrop gardens near you check out https://ngs.org.uk/view-garden/14669. To see Roger’s list of snowdrops and some lovely photographs of the garden in summer, go to http://www.ivycroftgarden.co.uk/. I hope to pass this way again.
Hospice gardens do not immediately spring to mind as ‘must go to visit attraction’. However while on child care duties in south London last weekend I took the opportunity to visit The Royal Trinity Hospice, Clapham Common which kindly opened its gates to the public in aid of the National Garden Scheme.
The Hospice, with its elegant facade situated on the north side of Clapham Common is the oldest hospice in the UK and was created in 1891 with thanks to the generosity of William Hoare who donated £1,000 of the £2,000 needed to set up what was known as The Hostel of God, the remainder of the funds being raised by public subscription. Originally situated around the corner in The Chase, the hospice by 1894 had 10 beds and patients were cared for by an order of nuns. In 1899 the hospice moved here to Clapham Common Northside, where it has expanded and evolved over the years with the late 1970s – 1980s seeing a significant rebuilding programme in order to improve the facilities and patient care environment.
It was during this time that the renowned landscape architect Lanning Roper visited the site and, waiving his fee, drew up plans for the 2 acre garden.
Photo borrowed from Lanning Roper and his Gardens by Jane Brown
Roper did not live to see his plans carried out, dying in 1983. So landscape architect John Medhurst was commissioned to lay out the garden, and included in his design such details as Roper’s generous curving brick paths which not only gently lead you to a hidden area but help those in a wheelchair glide seamlessly through the garden so as to enjoy the planting.
The majority of hospices rely on an army of volunteers, several of whom last Sunday gave up their time to greet us at the gate, directing us in through a side door. An easy access, with neither gravel nor steps, a joy for wheelchair or buggy users and something many garden owners where possible, might seriously think about.
You might be forgiven for expecting an uninteresting hospitalised space, a touch morbid even; instead however, you would in that first moment immediately feel that this is indeed a very special green space.
The raised beds on either side are well planted and display a rich variety: aromatic herbs mingle together along the left hand side,
on the other, a rose defies the approach of autumn and flowers steadily as if it is June
whilst the rugosas are into their autumn hips.
There is even a touch of wilding to be enjoyed.
Paths bend and flow, and as in life, choices need to be made….
it is the benign sound of water trickling down into the ornamental pond that beckons us round to the right.
Climbing up the steps it is the generous colourful pots which bring a splash of joy to those hard landscaping areas,
and from the balcony above the circular pond there is an opportunity to look out and take in the serenity and size of this mature two-acre London garden.
Descending the steps we begin to explore the many hidden areas. A substantial clerodendron grows beside an intimate area. This shrub is very happy here sending up suckers across the path; a native to China it is a quirky coincidence that the roof behind has a slightly oriental feel.
A grassy enclave is home to a fine Catalpa tree , its trunk needing support, it happily grows on.
The gardens were very dilapidated before Roper was involved and his first priority were the trees. This old Horse Chestnut tree provides not only a point of interest but also a marker between two separate areas. Its branches must hold many a secret of those conversations shared beneath on the deep seated benches.
Beyond the tree there is quite a different feel as we enter the pond area. Hospices are not just about the patients who are dying but also for those who remain to live on. Here is a perfect place to absorb all the many emotions that go with that unknown future. This afternoon it is pure joy for the first time in weeks, to benefit from the sunshine and the dappled shade.
Situated on one side of the pond is the kinetic sculpture entitled ‘Four Open Squares Horizontal Tapered’ (1984) by George Rickey, its subtle movement by the breeze from time to time provides an absorbing distraction,
whilst a monster lurks in the deep below.
There is a high standard of horticulture here and the Head Gardener has 28 volunteers to keep in order; it looks a serious business.
Behind the pond stands a substantial greenhouse,
next to which is the productive area providing an air of home-grown; the runner beans are prolific,
and strawberries too, in their own patch.
There is even an active and busy bee hive which produces Trinity House Honey.
Roper suggested the paths be kept clean with neatly trimmed hedges enticing you to journey into the next space.
He also suggested a palette of soft blue, silver, pink and white which continues to this day. Patients can enjoy the mix from their rooms.
The site is divided in two parts with the modern inpatient complex at the centre. We walk up the steps to where mature trees dominate a fine circular lawn. The Plane tree provides a good meeting place,
with elegant circular seating around its base.
The circular theme is echoed in the perimeter path from where
you can glimpse through the shrubs and trees the sun shining down onto the mown lawn where stands the round pleasing pebble sculpture.
Completed after his death the garden became a memorial for Lanning Roper and has been open every year since for the National Garden Scheme.
Our local hospice in West Norfolk has only recently been built and with it, a beautiful garden planted by volunteers. Let us hope they will sometime soon find a way to open their gates so that visitors can not only appreciate the valuable contribution that hospices make but also help raise funds for the National Garden Scheme.
Set within a large delightful park designed by Capability Brown, there is much for a visitor to do at Burghley in normal times: https://www.burghley.co.uk/about-us . Many will know the landscape from enjoying walks around the park, or a visit to the Sculpture Garden and the Garden of Surprises, and many will know Burghley from the famous horse trials held each September. However many may not know the Private South Garden which is seldom open but is hidden away behind the Great House. In 2019 I had a very enjoyable afternoon with a friend when the South Garden was open for the National Garden Scheme.
A far too great a distance for us to bike, but I wish I could have done so, if only to use this ingenious bicycle rack.
The entrance to the South Garden is via the Orangery and it feels strange ascending stairs in order to get out into a garden.
The Orangery restaurant on my left (closed at the moment but soon to re-open) and the garden gate to the South Garden is open through the Orangery Garden.
Such a handsome lion watches us quietly,
and a fountain drips gently through the aged moss into the formal pond,
whilst at the base of a pillar a splash of blue catches our eye growing miraculously from within the stonework.
Through the gate a vast expanse of croquet lawn appears before us, and we are drawn towards the dark forms of yew in the distance. Space is certainly not a problem here,
and it is what is required to compliment this great building, one of the largest and grandest houses of the first Elizabethan age. Built between 1555 and 1587 by William Cecil, Lord Burghley, the Lord High Treasurer to Queen Elizabeth I.
The dark green forms are clipped into shapes, some still work-in-progress, this one perhaps awaiting the emergence of a lion?
Here we see a display of loyalty to the Crown of which the first Lord Burghley would surely have approved.
Who could have imagined such a splendid march of whimsical topiary?
Beds of roses, pruned, trained and mulched are awaiting the warmer weather, and the seasonal lack of colour gives us the opportunity to appreciate the layout and beauty of the many fountains and urns,
Look at the detail of the intertwined serpent handles and wise old faces. To the side stands a mighty English oak Quercus robur described by the Woodland Trust as ‘The ruling majesty of the woods, the wise old English oak holds a special place in our culture, history, and hearts.’ A description truly appropriate to this fine specimen which was planted in 1844 by Her Majesty Queen Victoria.
At the far end of the walk is the jetty extending out over the lake; a perfect spot for that wild swimming we are encouraged to enjoy nowadays. It is a freezing cold day and I am relieved to find nobody is tempted, and so we turn to face the house,
the view of which is far more exhilarating than taking the plunge.
I always think there is something rather mystical about mistletoe growing high up in a tree but now it is a joy to see it close up on the lower branches.
We move around from the south side to the west; little wonder that Horace Walpole referred to Burghley as “A noble pile! ” We marvel at all things ancient, including the trees. Queen Elizabeth I is reputed to have planted this Lime tree.
I am sure those twisted branches could tell a tale or two…..
One would not wish to leap the Ha Ha, as it is quite deep. A cunning device, the Ha Ha physically separates the lawns from this Brownian park without dividing it visually.
and if you did wish to attempt to climb the fence, you might be restrained by this ornate but effective barrier.
In fact everything has been designed with beauty in mind, nothing more so than these golden gates made by Jean Tijou in 1693; just imagine taking your sundowner with this as the backdrop.
We retrace our steps around the south side taking in the charm of more topiary creatures, this time a snail,
and here, a wee mouse,
and a cunningly created two-faced fox, or is it a bear?
We leave the characters on the flat but sunny south side of the house and ascend the hill towards the east.
In front of a bank of blossom stands yet another magnificent urn where even the snakes seem to smile.
It is less formal here with a variety of narcissi bringing a feel of springtime under foot,
and Snake’s head fritillary Fritillaria meleagris nodding in the breeze. Years ago one might buy these delicate flowers in Covent Garden for just a penny or two, supplied by children who would gather them from the meadows along the River Thames where they grew in abundance.
However good the faithful hounds of the household were, they are surely not forgotten; how a headstone can say it all.
Around the corner is a charming neo-Jacobean banqueting house set on a sloping lawn. The front overlooks the lake,
with a simply stunning back door.
It is behind here that a tennis court has been sited; I am not sure whether Brown would approve but I am sure he would find the ornate bench the perfect place from which to watch the game.
A boat house sited across the other side of the lake was built in 1871 and replaced an earlier building.
This is a shrubby area with mature cedars growing elegantly by the lake.
We return to the orangery garden and my friend admires the neat chestnut paling fence.
The south garden was one of the original gardens to open for the National Garden Scheme back in 1927 and if you have missed this weekend’s opening, I thoroughly recommend a visit when it next opens for the Scheme this time next year. https://ngs.org.uk/view-garden/1387
The Garden Gate is Open 