The English Flower Garden

                                                Gravetye Manor, Sussex

   A sense of decay surrounds me as I wander through the old garden. Created by William Robinson in 1898 this is the first of the new English style of garden that became popular in the post-Victorian era. Instead of formal borders, clipped hedging and topiary is a more relaxed style of planting, where the garden is allowed to reflect the natural forms in the countryside beyond. Perennials spill over the edge of the border and onto the path. The seam at the end of the garden is lost in a soft boundary of blue catmint, rolling down the hill onto open fields. Only a geometrically shaped lawn reminds you that this informality has been created by the hand of man.

   The garden has been reclaimed in recent years and a program of restoration is underway. Bindweed, prolific throughout the garden, is being tamed and with every successful step the borders are returned to the original plan of the master. I visit in October when the summer flowers have lost their colour, save for pumpkin-orange Heleniums contrasting beautifully with the late flowering spires of purple-blue Salvia. Hues of beige and brown are evident all around.

   The garden draws me in, calling me onward and upwards, away from the sixteenth-century manor house and through shrubs thrown together with only the pea-gravel path separating them and defining their boundaries. I chance upon an Azalea, the stems hidden beneath ancient lichen, its leaves red in the autumn rain, underplanted with a sea of Stipa tenuissima, a suggestion of the garden that grew whilst Sleeping Beauty awaited the approach of her handsome prince. At the end of my climb I chance upon the walled garden. It is a marvel, its oval shape placed, it feels, precariously on the side of the hill. I find its curve creates a satisfying walk and allows the kitchen and cutting garden produce to be appreciated together, in one sweeping glance. 

   I follow a sunken pathway, cut into the side of the hill, the flagstones lead me on as though sharing a secret. Indeed it does: I am returned to the house - an archway leads me to the main entrance where I am warmly greeted in time for my lunch. Un-noticed, steps lead down from the sunken path to the kitchen, where the chef will prepare the freshest ingredients offered by one of the four gardeners that day.

Gravetye Manor, Friday, 19th October 2012

A storm they said would never come

"EARLIER ON TODAY A WOMAN RANG THE BBC AND SAID SHE HEARD THERE WAS A HURRICANE ON THE WAY... DON'T WORRY, THERE ISN'T..."

(Michael Fish, Thursday 15th October 1987)

                                                                                                      Allium hollandicum 'Purple Sensation' AGM

   Today I celebrate a birthday, an anniversary and a new life. My birthday, returned before I've come to terms with the last: gifts of bubble bath and bulbs, a silent seduction of spring - looking to the future. An anniversary, silver, of a storm they said would never come. Trees torn from the ground leaving hollows in place of their roots, felling ancient oaks, vistas returned from time long gone - a reminder of the past. And the present - a precious gift: the baby born to loving home, I join the ladies cooing over tiny fingers, forgotten whimpers and squeaks, each mother reminded of her own child long ago.

   To the birthday I hold up my hands, there's no fighting the passage of time. The bulbs, a gift from my parents, Allium hollandicum 'Purple Sensation' AGM - a real treat in store. In my mind I picture the border, the flowering balls providing a dash of colour against lime-green Euphorbia and rounded tulip petals as the days lengthen once again.

   For the anniversary I remember, being called to sleep in the sitting room as the winds rattled the windows, blowing hard enough to move the curtains through the glass and the morning devistation, unable to leave the road for fallen trees, electricity and telephone lines down and bedrooms opened to the elements by the canopies of trees that came to rest against buildings in their path. Naturally my birthday party, my thirteenth, was cancelled that year.

   To the child I smile: the newest member of our ladies lunch group. Flowers from the garden for the host, dusky pink Hydrangea against Cotinus coggygria 'Royal Purple' AGM foliage, gentle and romantic in their tones. The time passes fast as we talk, a friendship borne from the history we have in common.

Appledore, Tuesday, 16th October 2012

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

                                                                                                                                              Saxifraga 'Blackberry & Apple Pie' (fortunei)

   Autumn, as John Keats so romantically wrote in 1820, is the 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness'. After a rather wet start to the month the skies have cleared and the evaporating moisture hangs low across the meadow behind our house.

   In the fruit garden the autumn raspberries continue to produce a good crop while the two hundred year old apple tree looks on, resting this year, it's noble boughs empty.

   Amelanchier lamarckii leaves drop gently to the ground beside the greenhouse while I tend to the raised borders, dedicating one to the seedlings that have crept into the nooks and crannies around the garden during the summer months.

   At the front of the house the colours in the Cotoneaster hedge intensify with ripening berries. Later I hang baskets either side of the door, planted with white pansies and a new autumn favourite, Saxifraga 'Blackberry & Apple Pie'. The foliage of this hardy perennial is stunning: fleshy almost lime-green on top, with red bristles, yet the colour of the leaf stem and underside is raspberry red, the colour seeping onto the edge of the topside, as though painted on before the previous coat of watercolour paint has completely dried. From the road I can see the starry flower heads among the green leaves yet, as I return to the house, the red glows warmly against the cream render of the building.

   I retreat indoors later in the day where the aroma of rhubarb crumble soon fills the air, calling the family to the kitchen, a promise in store for their hungry mouths.

                                                                                                Appledore, Sunday, 7th October 2012