Wickets, Upper Langley in Essex was the only private garden to be open for the NGS in East Anglia last Sunday. I was fortunate to be able to bowl along and have a sneak preview the day before.  It was yet another of those steely grey days.

At a time when most of us are only just emerging into our gardens, Doug and Sue were way ahead of the game and had the place ship shape and ready for the Spring invasion.  The garden gate was really wide open:

The soft green grass, trunks of silver birch and a show of daffodils drew us in. Growing near the entrance by a small log pile were these charming cowslips .

Several years ago Doug and Sue added to their garden by buying a piece of land. Sue’s mother was not in favour of the purchase but like all good children they took no notice, naming the area in her memory.

Bessie if she was still around, would I am sure admire what has been created here. This is the area designed for fun; eating, harvesting and chilling. The large table (there are children and grandchildren), is tucked in beside the small parterre.

 A variety of planters surround the gravel space and this pleasingly shaped terracotta pot stands in the corner.

Espaliered apples surround the parterre and fruit cage combining ornament with production.  These adirondack chairs beckon you to sit, but do Sue & Doug have the time?

The view looks out across the Essex  countryside to the far off long-distance footpath of the Harcamlow Way.

There is actually a footpath which runs  diagonally across Bessie’s End. Instead of ignoring it, or even trying to divert it,  a hawthorn hedge has been planted accentuating angle and length. It is a path which is seldom taken. Perhaps for many walkers it might seem an intrusion.

Why bother with walking when there is a Shepherd Hut to sit and read in.

Wickets is divided into three sections and so leaving Bessie’s End we move into the informal meadow area  which is dominated by the pond.

A group of pines, cleverly planted provide a welcome touch of evergreen without blocking the view.

Hermes or rather Herpes, as Doug calls him, looks downcast while he waits for the summer months. There are all sorts of characters who live in this garden.

A stoney Owl peers across at the penned-in cockerel and his hens.

 

 

 

 

Mad March hares are boxing in the border.

By the house stands this little lady. An air of charm under that hat, she sounds just lovely.

An ancient face is pinned against the wall of the house. What better way to use this black grass ophiopogon planiscapus.

While this person seems wrapped up in thought. Doug says its George but surely it is Georgina?

The third part of the garden surrounds the house;  a more intimate space with great attention to detail. It is evident that Sue trained as a garden designer. How different it will all look in May when the garden opens again.

Beds curve around the lawn. All year round planting provide dabs of colour and delicious scents. The hedge running along the back divides but does not dominate, allowing glimpses over into the pond garden.

There are lots of interesting features such as the redundant barbeque.

A mirror on the fence cunningly reflects and broadens the space.

A Pergola attached to the house, covered with roses gives height and frames the pots of tulips and the imaginative bird table.

There is a place to pause and be on your own.

Daffodils cunningly hide a recent mole run.

There is plenty of brightness now.

and it is not all yellow

Sweet violets grow prettily amongst the shingle.

A leafy stepping stone embedded in the dark earth allows me to hop over to the border.

I can’t help but covet the glass house and it is this rather than the main house, that seems to have the greatest presence in the garden. Seen from various angles either beyond the clipped silver pear pyrus salicifolia ‘Pendula’.

Or over the hawthorn hedge and through the silver birch.

 Further away across the reflecting water

It is a very pleasing design and beautifully made. A Griffin Glasshouse, and the NGS receives a small percentage of the sale of every glasshouse in the NGS range.

It is a joy inside, a welcome relief from the wretched rain.

The weather does not bode well for tomorrow’s open day. Visitor numbers are unpredictable especially at this time of year. Doug has already made the soup and we leave Sue baking in the kitchen;  the smell of fresh home-made cake will surely help to bring the people in to this engaging garden.

——-15——-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some time ago I discovered that there is a snow drop called Tilly.  John, a trusty galanthophile from Gable House thought he had one but could not lay his hands on it when I visited some weeks ago (blog 9).

Tilly is a hybrid between galanthus gracilis and galanthus plicatus “Trym” which I have to say is completely meaningless to me. I like the idea that having found it in her garden, Valerie Cross, a notable lady in the snow drop world, named the flower after her terrier.

I am delighted to report that John has now supplied me with Tilly. I was a little surprised at the going rate of £40.00. A serious amount for such a tiny bulb. Think of how many other plants  I might buy for the same price. However my daughter Tilly has been living in Argentina for the past year. I miss her and really need a little something to celebrate her birthday. She of course reminded me that she is priceless.

Indeed the price paled into insignificance when I noticed this label at Monksilver Nursery the other day:

John also sent me some Galanthus Allenii , cheaper than our Tilly. They came through the post in beautiful condition carefully tied up with green twine and wrapped in damp moss. Unlike the aconites which arrived a day later from a commercial bulb grower, putrid and rotten. Thank heaven for NGS plantsmen.

I am busy dividing my snowdrops at home now but will nurture my Tilly. She is indeed a bit of a beauty; I hope you agree:

 

 

——-o——-

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last week I decided to celebrate the arrival of my Senior rail card by hopping over to Cork with for a two night stay at Ballymaloe (http://www.ballymaloe.ie/).

Forgive me if I wander from the 90 but it is such a special place.

Having arrived in the sunshine it was a wretched day when we awoke on our first morning.  I am not sure if Ireland does a light drizzle; it was pouring. From our bedroom window  a magnolia standing on the lawn brought a little cheer. It was difficult to capture the colour photgraphically but if you look carefully at the bottom of the wooded tangle there is a single unopened bud………

…..which on closer inspection is a beautiful shade of pink  and that was the very colour that glowed in the gloom.

We spent a  long time over breakfast in the comfortable dining room. Ballymaloe is a family affair. Ivan and Myrtle Allen bought the farm and house in 1948, he farmed and blessed with so much produce she opened up the restaurant in 1964.

Reluctant to embrace the weather we moved into another charming room where we spent more time over coffee and the inevitable slice of cake.

We had to do something other than eat. A cliff walk was eventually proposed. By the time we got to the sea the rain had stopped. However the fog set in and so a walk without a view was deemed rather pointless. Accompanied by two non gardeners I was hesitant in suggesting a visit to the Ballymaloe Cookery School Garden. It proved to be a great idea, although not the best day for photography.

It was Darina the daughter-in-law who started this famous Cookery School back in 1983. You enter the garden through the Shop where we bought our tickets, and passing by the garden cafe which was closed (such a relief as we were still full from breakfast), and found the fun map on the wall.:

There is  no sign of the chickens as a recent outbreak of Avian flu has confined them to barracks. Unsightly bins are also hidden away behind these unique but firmly closed gates.

Before entering the fruit garden we catch sight of fungi growing on the tree trunk; It is during these winter months when you notice these patterns of nature.

Apples are trained over metal arches. Our eyes are drawn away from the grey sky to the verdant underplanting of spring bulbs.

A variety of daffodil with small heads are blooming and clumps of snowflake Leucojum aestivium,  a big cousin to the snowdrop, brighten up the dormant trees.

The combination drifting together looks good.

It is a sheltered garden and Snake’s head fritillary, fritillaria meleagris are also out, a few grow at the bottom of the trained apple trees

while others make a decorative carpet:

Spring has surely sprung.  There is hardly a bare patch amongst the hellebores.

The students, who have access to the gardens are accommodated in the collection of cottages which are adorned with climbers of all types.

Opposite is the entrance into Lydia’s Garden and hey, the garden gate is open!

Through the gate we could carry on through the hoops of beech hedges but we veer off towards the right.

It is not so much about the planting in this garden but the objects;  A Summer House, Terracotta pot and small circular pool.

Behind the pond we climb the grey galvanised steps up towards the grey ungalvanised sky.

It feels like being in a tree house. From the viewing platform we can see over the  beech hedge, and what a thickness. To the left is Lydia’s garden which we have just walked through and to the right is the herb garden.

Herbs will billow out colourfully in the box compartments in the summer. For now we have to be content to appreciate the design; the joy of having such a planted structure.

Beyond this area and out into the wet spacious field, we come across a wooden edifice; recently constructed we wonder at its purpose and can only conclude that it is perhaps a place for students to recite their recipes. The food here is outstanding; the recipes must indeed be pure poetry.

Not far away, this large cauldron sits in splendid isolation.

Then we discover  this little gothic folly.

We have the key which is attached to a curiously culinary ring, and unlock the padlock.

The interior is adorned with shells – in fact at least 20,000 assorted shells.  They pattern the walls…

the floor…

and the ceiling. Even the chandelier is encrusted.

The attention to detail is stunning:

It is quite beautiful, a work of art.

Even outside around the base.

From the Shell House you look back towards the long, long herbaceous borders. Like us they are waiting for the sunshine and warmth of the summer months.

Behind the Shell House a twiggy monster is woven into the grass,

there is also a metallic folly,

and a shiny brass cupula rises above the celtic maze.

 

 

 

 

 

Leaving this entertaining space behind we walk through a hedge into the horticultural heart of Ballymaloe.

It is hard to miss the two water towers which brightly encourage the growing of food. And that is exactly what is being done.

Darina’s husband Tim is responsible for supplying the school and restaurant. Vegetables are grown outside,

and, inside the acre of greenhouse there is an horticulture explosion. A large range of salads

From tiny young pea shoots in old fish boxes,

to triffid height kale.

All parts of the greenhouse are used with Kiwi plants growing on the ceiling above us.

and either end of the glasshouse are brightened with Nectarine Fantasia,

and Plum Lizzie.

We head back out past the rows of leeks, spring onions and rhubarb growing in ordered lines.

We pass the fields with cows and pigs; they are not out today but sheltering in their sheds. There is a handsome gate to admire.

and we enter the old pleasure garden. This is dominated by a large pond with a classical summer house at the end.

A Japanese cherry with twisted trunk stretches out elegantly

its dripping buds soon to open.

Even a decomposed leaf lying on the ground has a beauty:

It must have escaped being tidied into the wheel barrow

It is not a day for sitting around but the blue benches are beautiful either single:

or double:

Through the first of the beech hoops

We find ourselves back in the herb garden. Clipped to perfection. The viewing platform which we stood on earlier is tucked away up on the right.

Back in the yard, we are alerted to the sound of a cockerel; he is shut away in his Palais.

 From here we walk towards the vegetable garden.

Which is having a revamp. In spite of this we are not prevented from entering but notices warn of slippery paths,  and they are.

Back in the yard we admire the trough

and the pots, so effective placed out in odd numbers:

or even just one on its own.

Many overseas visitors come to the garden during the summer, however the Irish garden visitors are reluctant to pay. Rachel Allen who runs the hotel explains that they feel they have a right to just enter a garden. There are plenty of beautiful gardens in Southern Ireland  but visiting a garden for charity is unheard of.  So, sadly no National Garden Scheme here.

We have begun to build up an appetite and so it is time to return down the drive lined with the evergreen oaks of Quercus ilex, back to Ballymaloe House for a gourmet meal.

Blow the weather, what better way to have spent a birthday.

 

——-x——-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last weekend, expecting to be a bit busy on the Sunday I was pleased to find a garden open on the Saturday.  So I drove down to near Great Dunmow in Essex and slipped into St. Helens, a small garden in the attractive village of Stebbings. Wondering if the name might be inspired by saintly connections or simply a reminder of the place in Merseyside, I discovered that the previous owner had named it after her house at the school she attended.

Now owned by a retired dentist and his wife, the garden was created out of a former area used for the growing of Salix alba Caerulea, more commonly known as the Cricket Bat Willow.

An ivy covered arch enticed us through into the open garden.

On the patio in a bird bath, Hellebore flowers float exotically. This surely must be the best way to view them.

Another archway, a keyhole perhaps, in a slightly more formal hedge beckons us in a little further.

However before entering through we decide to bear off right and pass through the vegetable garden. Here growth is still dormant but the beds are ready, weeded and prepared. A face in the hedge is content to watch and wait for the season’s growth.

Behind the vegetable patch and through the deciduous hedge is the millennium parterre. The box hedging comes from cuttings prepared by the owner, nearly 200 plants; it is a labour of love. Best viewed from the platform of the garden building on the far side….

….which nestles amongst unclipped deciduous and evergreens. It looks just the place to chill for awhile and it has all the necessary facilities

which are neatly tucked away at the back out of sight.

The garden is predominately woodland and the laurels are particularly healthy and handsome. This tall variety has large glossy leaves and has  witch hazel timidly growing at its feet.

The shorter more solid cherry laurel Prunus laurocerasus ‘Otto Luyken’, is a perfect foil for the smooth trunks of the deciduous trees.

Variegated shrubs play their part too, lighting up areas with a scattering of snowdrops. Some variegation is golden:

Whilst others are silver:

We find a very unusual shrub, and are perplexed by the tangle of sharp thorns. The owner enlightens us; this is the Japanese bitter orange poncirus trifoliate, a close relative to the citrus family. In the summer it will produce fragrant cup shaped flowers which will turn into satsuma-like fruit. Another new plant to add to my list.

Ivy creeps everywhere and it would be impossible to eradicate it. Gently controlled, it becomes an attractive ground cover. Paths wind around the garden and I imagine this would be a delight for children, with little feet running about to explore what might be just around the corner.

And then there is a secret hideaway. Who lives here? Made out of logs it is far too solid and organised for any Eeyore.

Ivy also covers a mound, the last of the Cricket bat willows, 90 feet tall it fell during a storm a few years ago, narrowly missing a rarity;

the erect Chinese swamp cypress Glypostrobus pensilis:

There are lovely ornaments positioned about the garden.  More floating hellebores, this time pink.

A stone urn sits on a mound; a mini roundabout in the pathway:

And an armillary sphere is tucked into the shrubs.

While another urn, raised on a plinth  provides a focal point across the water and a feel of antiquity.

Wooded and  watery, the paths and bridges lead you over and around the ponds.

Wintery reflections are captured on the water’s surface either side of the moored dinghy.

Marsh Marigolds caltha palustris luxuriate in the damp habitat.

It is also a perfect place for the giant butterbur Petasitis japonica, a perennial  rhizome whose leaves in the summer will grow up to 3 feet tall.

Clumps of pulmonaria are also showing through, as are joyful primroses.

There is no lack of places to sit.  Either to enjoy a watery view.

Or simply under a tree.

The curvature of this bench is perfectly placed in the indentation of the planting behind.

While the box either side of this solid bench is clipped to imitate the shape of the spire of the distant church.

We adjourn for coffee and cannot resist this french elegance sited in an intimate space by the house.

There is indeed seating for all sizes.

A splash of colour from 3 ceramic poppies used in the installation at Tower of London. Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red, marked the centenary of the outbreak of the First World War, I wonder where the other 888,243 have now been planted?

In the little room where the teas are served, a book  Dream gardens of England, is open at the right page; St Helens pictured in the summer is one of those 100 inspirational gardens.

On the wall the certificate is proudly displayed marking a commendable 10 years of opening for the NGS.

The sun has at last broken through. This garden largely wooded and watery, has something for everyone. From rare specimens to common species. Horticulture and humour are displayed on our exit as we walk down the drive; on the one side are vines trained against the wall,

while on the other, a curiously clipped creature. Children too, would love it here, but there is no sign of a young visitor today; a pity because entrance for children is free in all NGS gardens.

——-14——-

The A17 is an intensely horticultural road; the flat fenland fields are of sprouts and cabbages. Last Sunday  driving to a garden in Lincolnshire, many of the fields were yellowing not with wintering vegetables but rows of daffodils and pickers bent over double. As I turned off left onto the A52, the level landscape soon changed to gentle undulations with the road lined by thick hedgerows, recently cut.

Today The Garden Gate is Open in the small village of Hacconby. The scent of winter honeysuckle lonicera fragrantissima combined with that great stalwart,  winter box sarcococca confusa greeted our arrival. On the gravel foreground is an assortment of stone containers growing alpines.

This was once a working farmyard where, before becoming a galanthophile the owner kept pigs. One day his barn developed a hole so he temporarily patched it up with an old metal advertisement sign. I don’t know if more holes appeared over the years but it has now become a delightful collection; an amusing back drop to a very neat yard.

The sun was reluctant to shine today but it did not matter. A cheerful lady, possibly a neighbour was skilled in her welcome, pointing out the loo and handing me the Lincolnshire NGS booklet!

A nearby archway beckons you up the garden path directly behind the house.  The borders seem to be packed with plants. The owners are clearly knowledgeable as well as being snowdrop experts. In younger days they used to open the garden frequently and a visitor tells me how after many years of coming to the garden she has been able to learn so much. Each week she says there was something new to discover.

Roses are pruned ready to climb up and over another wooden arch. These structures not only add height, but also help to divide the garden into areas while maintaining a look of transparency.

In a sheltered corner this young chap bestows a little charm, holding his collar up; perhaps he is feeling the effects of the wind.

A water trough is attractively incorporated into the flower bed surrounded by the first colours of Spring.

An old and majestic apple tree provides a pleasant area to sit.

All sorts of items are incorporated into this garden including a set of weighing scales! Placed by the lavender they are eye-catching and maybe a perfect platform for something.

Clumps of Snowdrops and colourful hellebores are in abundance.

The birds must love this garden yet I am surprised to see there are still berries on this variegated Holly in February.

A tall yew gives a gentle touch of evergreen and provides further structure by another archway.

The cleanly clipped yew hedge smoothly separates the flower garden from the drive. The old apple tree has dictated the height and shape.

The garden owner’s daughter Sharon apologises for the lack of design but I feel that this garden has been carefully thought out.

Across the yard tiny alpines inhabit the collection of stone troughs .

An area which once housed pigs has become a nursery bed and plants are for sale in a lovely old wooden barrow.

Whilst another barrow, more modern and metal becomes an interesting planter and is filled with even more alpines.

The variety of shrubs have a good underplanting  and there is much promise of plenty to come.

On closer inspection it is Cardamine quinquefolia, no relation to the spice, which spreads triumphantly through the spring flowers. Happy in shade it will die down soon to let summer plants push through.

Sharon tells me that her father was one of the first to open his garden for snowdrops some 25 years ago. So popular are they now, the NGS has turned it into a national festival.

I cannot begin to list the number of varieties that grow here but Galanthus Global Glory looks pretty impressive.

At last the blossom is emerging and here it is on a wild plum.

You would not know that this is a bed for raspberry canes. Taken over by the Spring flora, they will remain dormant for awhile yet.

A Cornus mas grows brightly at the edge of the lawn.

Close by, a neat path invites you into the vegetable garden.

I find enthusiasm and great discussions being held over a bed entirely devoted to snowdrops. Hundreds of varieties all carefully labelled have been inherited by Sharon from a friend. There are still more for her to collect and I wonder whether this vegetable patch will eventually be taken over entirely.

Crocus are also invading.

There are still some vegetables but I am not sure that they are winning.

Cyclamen find their feet along the path behind apple trees and under the hedge.

This glorious crocus is called Margot, recently found it is not yet on the market.

On my way out I pass the plant sales again. I ponder on buying yet more snowdrops but instead weaken to some hellebores. Well you can’t have enough.

By the front door there is a collection of pots: on the left Ophiogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’ surrounds is a quirky Privet. In the middle, Hellebore Penny’s Pink looks stunning but is sadly not for sale. On the right, a new plant to me, is the intriguing and rare Scoliopus bigelowii; A member of the lily family it is native to North America and also goes by the name of Footed Adder’s Tongue! Which ever name you choose, it looks happy enough here in Lincolnshire!

It has been a charming garden sprinkled with curiosities and early Spring colour even though it is hardly March. There is so much to interest the intrepid snowdrop enthusiast.

As I slip out through the gate those early signs of Spring have followed, spilling through the hedge onto the edge of the pavement.

——-13——-

The christening of a great nephew was a perfect excuse for a return visit to Berkshire. A very different garden to Welford Park which I visited a few weeks ago, and although Oak Cottage in Finchampstead does not have quite the show of snowdrops it does however illustrate the diversity of gardens that are open for the NGS.

Originally combined to open with another garden, this year garden owner Liz had to go solo.

The Garden Gate is Open, and it must be the first electronically operated gate that I have encountered on my garden visits! There will be surely lots of inquisitive people wanting to see what is behind this gate!

Sure enough there were! The little garden was packed. I wondered if perhaps this was a case where  timed entrance tickets might be needed.

And that reminds me of the story of Horace Walpole, who in the mid 18th Century was so overwhelmed with visitors at his Gothic Castle  Strawberry Hill, that he was forced to issue a system of pre-booked tickets. He also implemented a long list of rules, one being absolutely no children. No rules here thankfully and several children, who of course go  free in an NGS garden.

Liz’a partner had to be away on business and hats off to her for calmly coping on her own. She asked me to take photographs of the crowd as proof that she was not having an idle afternoon.

The visitors appeared to be enjoying themselves, relaxed and in no hurry to leave. Tea was served in doors and the local W.I. had rung ahead to book tea for 30 of their members.

In spite of the visitors I did manage to get a chance to photograph. This was Liz’s third year of opening the garden and she told me that before she had even opened for the first time, her much treasured fountain was stolen. “Hence the need for the gate ” she explained.

You would think that the theft might put her off the whole idea of inviting strangers into her garden; however, with a replacement installed and completely undeterred, she opened her garden. That first year less than 20 visitors showed up. Word must have got out!

Snowdrops were in abundance, not spread out in a carpet but dotted about in good strong clumps; they were growing everywhere; cheerfully in the borders lighting up a shady area.

Or growing amongst other plants such as the emerging spring crocus.

They were also growing close by the studio

and even in pots:

There were lots of different varieties, many of which were labelled; ‘Mrs Thompson’  looked charming, her head suspended like a large parasol:

Snow drops had also crept into the fenced-off wild flower garden. At its best in the summer, this area was looking a little dormant.

However there were  crocus in flower and the engaging little heads of Iris reticulata poking through the crisp layers of oak leaves:

These leaves had fallen from the large  tree at the at the end of the garden. It is presumably from this tree that the cottage gained its name. The shape looks similar to  a hand; a thumb with an extra digit or two, gloved in ivy.

There is a woodland feel to this garden and various types of hellebores appear happy in their surroundings.

they complement the snowdrops, either growing singly:

Or in colourful clumps.

It is always so pleasing to find a new plant and I had never come across chrysoplenium macrophyllum from China. It looks to be a pretty ground cover, content in the shade.

I was quite surprised to see a small bunch of Lilies of the Valley poking through. Spring really must be on the way.

 

There was a touch of everything in this garden; height in the form of obelisks for clematis.

Neat paths lined with step over apples.

and even a collection of Bonsai including this small beech. Liz and her partner have busy working schedules and what better way to help ease the gardening load by installing  an automatic watering system.

There was even a good crop of lemons.

Finally the exotic mixture of greenery softens the hard landscape in the front area.

A small private garden in a residential area, its popularity demonstrates the need to open more gardens in Winter.

——-12——-

 

My friend Lesley who is into garden antiques (limeavenueantiques.co.uk)  has found me the perfect bird bath for my garden. So last Wednesday I headed down to Essex to collect it and incorporated a visit to the nearby Dragons, a 3/4 acre garden near Chelmsford.

Well, why would a garden be called Dragons? It is a legacy from the former owner’s children who used to play dragons in the garden and hence the name stuck. No children now but there is still a dragon who greets us at the entrance:

Curved paths lead us round from the neat front garden which is packed with an assortment of shrubs underplanted with snowdrops. The path emerges into a  dry shingle area where herbs and evergreens are resting in the weak sunshine. Bare twigs, like the rest of us, are longing for the summer warmth. Even at first glance it is obvious that this is a plantswoman’s garden.

Bare wooded shrubs are in evidence. Some are looking  distinctly oriental with slender shoots stretching and twisting outwards above bright aconites. A Red cornus grows guardsman-straight in contrast behind,

others appear bright against the evergreen hedge.

A black willow looks very striking.

And the corylus is tangled and gnarled.

As a child on rare visits to London, my mother would encourage me to look right up to the tops of building. It is a practice I continue to adopt but nowadays from beneath the trees  in winter.

A good sized ditch full of water is the boundary at the bottom of the garden, and here is a wooden gazebo hidden away and perfectly sited to admire the farmland and landscape beyond.

It is not all bare branches. At the base of a mature tree I find a tapestry of green emerging up the trunk.

We circulate around the garden admiring the well cared-for beds. In my most recently visited garden, John’s paths were straight. Here, Margot’s paths bend.  It just occurs to me to question if this is a gender thing? Do the men make straight paths whilst the ladies curve theirs? No doubt I will be proved otherwise.

There are more places to sit but I wonder if Margot ever has time to enjoy such a luxury.

At first glance  I thought this was a man-made garden sculpture. The seed heads of the cardiocrinum giganteum look as beautiful now in winter as their flowers must have done last summer.

The seed heads do not detract from the tidiness of this garden. My camera begins to use its flash as it detects the darkening skies. I introduce Lesley to the lovely Sue and Doug who, with a wonderful sense of humour devote their lives to the NGS and not just in Essex.

Rain has been forecasted for 3pm the exact time when Dragons is closing. Spot on cue the first drops appear. We head for the exit. Passing the back door there are raised beds cunningly hiding all those necessary things that need to be stored by the door. It is pleasing to see small plants at eye level and through the window too.

A little jewel of a hepatica

Oh and aren’t other peoples sheds so interesting. Look at the shining cleanliness of those tools!

Margot collects snowdrops and I try and avoid the ugly word ‘galanthophile’. She warns me off the word ‘snowdropper’ because it was not only a slang term used in 1920s for cocaine addicts, but also a turn of phrase referring to those who have a penchant for stealing women’s undies off clotheslines!

She digs me up some galanthus woronowii which has particularly glossy green leaves so strikingly reminiscent of its big cousin the Amaryllis.

It has been a difficult time personally for Margot, and I cannot help but admire her. She managed to ‘garden and carry on’ and single-handedly has somehow found the strength to open her garden. There were 50 grateful visitors today. That is not bad for midweek in February.

A dragon perched high up watches us leave.

——-10——-

After a wretched week of cold dull days Sunday 12th proved to be a killer. In snow, sleet and an easterly wind, I reluctantly set off in pursuit of Gable House, quite near to Beccles in Suffolk. Who on earth would want to visit a garden on such a day, even one that has been opening for the Scheme for 40 years? However,  I was pleased to find that I was not the only one and 80 hardy visitors had already beaten me through the garden gate.

The two inches of snow which had fallen that morning had almost melted. Entrance  to the garden is unpretentious, and a small path to the side of the garage brings you round to a vegetable garden.  Clumps of primroses are an attractive addition in the fruit cage and this productive area is divided from the rest of the garden by a row of espaliered apple trees several of which are smothered in mistletoe.

It is such a pretty plant and a joy to see close up. I had not realised, until the garden owner pointed it out, that the plant is dioecious. Naturally it is the female that bears the white berries.

Indeed white seemed to be the dominant theme today; Snowdrops flowered brightly throughout the borders. Good sized clusters carefully labeled, identify the many different varieties grown here. Galanthus ‘Atkinsii’ looks particularly charming:

And Galanthus ‘Richard Ayers’, named after that one-time great head gardener of Anglesey Abbey, bows his heavy  head.

I have learned a lot from my February garden visits about the snowdrop, and recently discovered a cultivar named Tilly. John the garden owner, assures me that he has seen her somewhere in his large collection.  Today she is proving to be a little elusive so I purchase the grey leaved and large flowered Galanthus ‘Brian Matthews’.

Another white flower and looking rather stunning is  Edgeworthia chrysantha.  An elegant shrub it is related to the Daphnes and as the name suggests, the flowers are similar to miniature chrysanthemum which dangle at the end of its branches.

It is always good to hear the sound of children in a garden. Here the garden owner’s grandchildren were enjoying the network of narrow straight paths, running up and down in T shirts they are happily oblivious to the cold.

Many of the trees are adorned with climbing roses and ornamental ivies. Along the outer perimeter path I  notice the shiny green leaves of the evergreen climber, hydrangea seemanii  healthy in its pursuit to reach the top of the tree.

The more I look at gardens in these early months, the more I wonder at the sculptural forms created by shrubs and trees in their natural winter guise.  A dizzy tangle of branches on this slightly unusual form of a persian ironwood, parrottia persica, in circulation 30 years ago John is not sure what it is called. How different this will appear come the summer.

A creamy white solid trunk is grounded by a colourful mat of aconites and cyclamen.

In some patches the cyclamen flower is not so dense, but on what other plant would you find such charming leaves. Fitting for a Valentine posy?

Also pretty in pink is a daphne, the closed flower buds just waiting to burst open when the sun finally comes.

There is a warm glow from the coppery-orange flowers of the witch hazel, Hamamelis x intermedia Jelena. No wonder the plants do so well here, the soil in the beds is looking enriched, well-cared for and fertile.

It is the scent not of the Hamamelis but rather the Sarcococca or Sweet box that pervades this garden in the greyness of today;  no garden should be without it.

Even the grasses still provide colour after the long winter, some still holding on to their shape after so many months of standing.

This garden is evidence of John’s knowledge as a plantsman and it is the greenhouse that is further testament to his horticultural skills. Despite the cold, he and his neighbour enthusiastically sell their plants displayed by the greenhouse. It is humbling to recall that this hard work and dedication is being undertaken for charity.

The visitors today are real enthusiasts, many of whom are clearly regulars. I pop into the conservatory where I find several of them keeping warm with a mug of soup.  I buy something tasty for my return journey, overlooked by these regal beauties who I am sure have been here for most of the past forty years:

——-9——-

Grey skies seem an endless trait at the moment and it was indeed a particularly dull day when I set off from London along the dreary M4 to visit Welford Park.

Open for six weeks during the flowering period, today a Wednesday, was given over to the NGS. Was it perhaps a little too early in the season for the snowdrops and aconites? Not everyone thought so as there seemed to be plenty of cars in the car park.

I crossed over the busy road and walked along the chipped bark trail towards the gatehouse, a little concerned at the regimented line of planted snowdrops but at least content that they were in flower.

Turning the corner, my spirits were lifted not only by sight of the gentle covering of snowdrops either side of the drive, but also the seemingly curious interest displayed by a Muscovy drake, combined with the warm welcome from the NGS Berkshire team who were braving it in the cold.

So what had attracted me to Welford Park on this utterly bleak day?

Well, it happens to be one of the founding gardens to be open back in 1927, and secondly, apart from a beautiful house and the promise of drifts of snowdrops, it is has been the setting for three years of that wondrous contest The Great British Bake Off.

If you look very carefully you can see the marks left by the marquee.

And here are the very steps that our Mary would pop up and down. I say our because, after all, Mary Berry is the NGS President. At the top of the steps is Heather, who heads up NGS Berkshire. Overwhelmed by the size of the Tulip Tree behind her I fail to enquire into her baking skills.

We take a look at the enclosed garden by the side of the house. Reserved for those special cultivars of snowdrops it will be at its best in the summer. I wonder if stressed bakers might have slipped in here for a few moments of calm.

and perhaps found a little wisdom as we did, perched on a fork.

After grabbing a cup of coffee we pass by a garden gate charmingly framed by giant galanthus:

We are then joined by Peter, and more importantly his terrier Spike:

Snowdrops adorn the banks of the River Lambourn:

they grow both near:

and also stretch far:

more and more…….

We are amazed.  Tiny as these flowers are they create quite an impact when they are growing in such quantity. Contemplating whether trusty Spike might be more of an aconite chap, it is at this point that I discover that Peter, the great Crocus chief, is an NGS  Trustee himself.

Crossing back over the river and heading back towards the house we pass under the mistletoed lime avenue:

under which there are even more snowdrops, and an abundance of aconites:

Swathes of yellow in front of a perfectly proportioned house:

and a warm glow of cornus by the Bake Off lawn:

Without drawing Spike’s attention, we quickly passed by the dog cemetery and headed for warming soup.

Knowing that the garden owner is married to the Lord Lieutenant I asked her if she grew the snowdrop bearing that name. She had, and along with several other special snowdrops. Mrs Puxley related the story of how one day, a visitor rushed up to her waving a particularly precious flower in her hand: “I don’t know if you realise it but you have a very rare snowdrop” she reported breathlessly. Mrs Puxley could hardly believe that the visitor had possessed the temerity to pick her treasured bloom, and she nearly cried.

Another visitor had picked snowdrops for her buttonhole, “I hope you don’t mind” she haughtily said “but you do have so many”. Indeed Mrs Puxley did mind and asked her to remove them questioning what would happen if all the 10,000 visitors picked them.

I suppose in six weeks of opening there is likely to be some collateral damage but hopefully never on NGS open days!

With my purchase of a snowdrop named‘Brenda Troyle’ (who was she?), I set off for home. Daylight  rapidly diminishing as I leave through the open gate, so noble in stature.  A long drive home but it was so worth it.