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:
Following the book launch of the National Garden Scheme’s Gardens to Visit at the Royal Festival Hall last Thursday I decided to walk along the Thames, jump on a train at London Bridge and travel to North Dulwich. As I walked the 5 minutes down Half Moon Lane the sun came out and there was a feeling of Spring in my step.
The garden, situated behind an Edwardian-style house is just 150 ft x 40 ft, but from the terrace it looks so much bigger.
Rosemary and her husband have lived here for over thirty years, so the garden is well established. On the terrace there is every sort of container, pots, watering cans and old-fashioned sinks.
White Bergenia, blue rosemary and pink hellebore provide a welcome splash of Spring colour.
Rosemary is a botanical artist and there is definitely a touch of artistry in the garden. Positioned on the side wall, the iron stag’s head with antlers twisted into holly leaves has a good view.
Lawn, trees, topiary and euphorbias are combined to provide shape and form, a rich tapestry of green.
I take the path that runs down along the left side of the garden; in just the first few steps there is a delightful variety of shrubs.
The sunshine is pushing open the new leaves of this Photinia glabra, although not as red as the more commonly seen Photinia x fraseri ‘red robin’, it is a delightfully rounded evergreen.
A bee is really getting into this pretty camelia.
The squawk of a parakeet can be heard as it flies overhead, no doubt keeping his eye on the raised bird baths. The garden is cleverly divided, whilst remaining ‘open plan’. Divisions are not oppressive but subtle allowing the eye to see over or through. The lawn appears to squeeze through the line of rounded box balls,
and moves towards a fountain gently bubbling over the rim of the tall jar. Fritillaria gracefully grow from tubby twin pots placed at the corner of the paved surround.
Three mature apple trees grow in the centre of the garden; below this one is a daphne and the scent is a delight.
More box balls intermingle with shrubs and perennials, and the brick path behind brings you into a bricked area.
The mood changes with a medley of metallic containers; nothing is left unplanted. Even the tree in the centre is not as natural as you might think.
Opposite, the wave bench by Anthony Paul marks the gravel garden. Surrounded by wooden sleepers the idea of this dry area was inspired by the great Beth Chatto.
Up through the gravel grows this little gem; at first glance I think it is a crocus but on closer inspection I realise it is a tiny species tulip.
Carrying on down the path towards the end of the garden I look back at the skilfully pruned apple tree,
the prunings of which are used to line the woodbark path that leads across to the bug hotel at the end of the garden. The garden is open in three days time and Rosemary is concerned that it is nearly a month behind. She worries that some of the daffodils are tightly in bud,
but there are splashes of Spring, such as this Pulmonaria pushing up through the ivy,
and a pink patch of cyclamen.
Brilliant hellebores, pink, red and white are out all over the garden.
Plants are positively thriving here, the result of well worked soil, and there can be no doubt that compost bins are clearly an important ingredient in this garden.
In every inch of this garden there is so much variety, and returning along the opposite side of the garden is a cloud-pruned Phillyrea latifolia, its dark green glossy foliage so striking in the afternoon sun.
For a moment there is a strong scent of fox; it is a curious coincidence as from out of the border Charlie appears…
… he is in pursuit of the goose on the lawn.
This tender sculpture can’t bear to watch and ever so gently turns away.
Back just below the house there is a ‘plank of pots’ with the suggestion of an alpine collection.
Against the garage wall is a decoratively trained climbing rose, a sort of final swirl to this creative garden.
I am itching to return home to pick up my secateurs but before I leave I am amused at the idea that these happy plants have moved to the windowsill to gain a better view of this delightful garden.
The weather forecast for the weekend is not great but this should not prevent an enjoyable visit to this treasure of a garden. Keep calm and visit a garden.
The Garden Gate is Open 