St Cuthbert’s Way

2 to 10 May 2026

It’s a month since I returned from making a pilgrimage with my friend Lynn and a group of women from St Paul’s church in Northfields, walking St Cuthbert’s Way (SCW) from the Scottish Borders to Holy Island in Northumberland. In May last year I walked the last three stages of the West Highland Way. I recorded my impressions of that walk in a blog post which amounted to a transcript of my log of the trip. And what follows is an edited version of the notes I made each evening of this year’s long distance walk. The spiritual aspect of the pilgrimage and prayerful approach of my companions were deeply meaningful to me. But in this account of the week I’m concentrating on the physical landscape we traversed and the plants encountered en route.

A map overview of St Cuthbert's Way, showing the entire route from Melrose to Holy Island, with marked towns and GPS compatibility. It includes a layout of map panels with a key for navigation.

2 May 2026. London to Melrose. The Town House Hotel.

King’s Cross St Pancras to Edinburgh and local train to Tweedbank. Rail replacement between York and Doncaster. All connections worked perfectly. Group very welcoming and inclusive. Tantalising glimpse of Holy Island from the train after passing through Alnmouth north of Newcastle. We were met at Tweedbank by Peter, husband of Ann, one of the walkers. Peter has kindly agreed to act as luggage transfer for the week. Peter drove us the couple of miles to Melrose in his red Citroen Berlingo, with some of the party hopping onto a local bus. A few days ago I dropped off my case with Lynn in Ealing for Peter to collect and drive up to Scotland. It was very freeing to travel without the encumbrance of a (relatively) heavy piece of luggage. Saying that, I did bring a yoga bag containing my walking poles and boots!

Before supper we walked through the town to Melrose Abbey for our first glimpse of the Eildon Hills which we shall cross tomorrow. Swallows and house martins in abundance around the C12 Cistercian *abbey. It was about 6pm and the abbey, maintained by Historic Scotland, was closed. But we wandered back through part of the Harmony Garden, a National Trust for Scotland property, with pristine beds prepared for planting and a range of glasshouses (one containing a selection of tender succulents). Four heritage apples in half barrels stood outside the glasshouses, the stamped metal label on one reading ‘Tam Montgomery’, which according to Scottish Heritage Fruit Trees fruits in early July ‘with pale skin and characteristic lemon taste’. There were good views across the garden to the abbey and the Eildon Hills beyond. The blossom was still on a cherry tree in the garden, falling in pastel drifts around the foot of the tree. Clearly the season is several weeks behind the south east. I spotted primroses on the railway embankment on the northernmost leg of our journey this afternoon.

Historic ruins of a stone structure visible over a low stone wall, with a winding road in the foreground and rolling hills in the background under a cloudy sky.

Ruins of an old stone abbey with scaffolding on one side, surrounded by green grass and trees.

3 May. Melrose to Harestanes. The Royal Hotel, Jedburgh. 15 miles.

Day 1 of the pilgrimage. Drizzle. Prayers outside the hotel. This is the pattern we’ll follow all week: morning prayers before setting off, prayers after lunch and evening prayers after supper. It has been agreed that we walk in silence for the first two hours each day. For private prayer, reflection and contemplation of the peaceful surroundings. Drizzle and mist. A steep walk onto the Eildon (pronounced Iledon) Hills. Acidic yellow gorse at head height and higher on each side of the track. Birdsong at close range. The soil on the path was a deep red, presumably reflecting the sandstone of the local geology: several buildings in Melrose were clearly built of sandstone. ‘Blaeberries’ growing path side. Descent into Eildon Woods: dense temperate rainforest. Beech predominant. Ferns and mosses. Emerged onto pasture land grazed by brown sheep. Down to the village of Bowden where we read about the octagonal ‘pant well’, a public water fountain built in 1861 which brought clean water to the community.

We followed tributary of River Tweed (Bowden Burn) to St Boswells, where Peter met us loaded with hot coffee and snacks! Through the village and down to the clubhouse of St Boswells Golf Course, and along the path beside the course which is located on the banks of the Tweed. Beyond the golf course stands the Mertoun Bridge, and once past it there was a steep scramble down to the water’s edge with a view back to the bridge. We stopped for lunch a little further along, on a rocky beach near a weir, and spotted several fly fishermen waist deep in the river. And martins and swallows skimming close to the water. The Tweed is a salmon river, though it’s in the autumn when salmon make their way upriver to spawn. The river meanders into an almost S shape here, with woods to one side of the path and rocky ‘coves’ along the water’s edge. I saw a dipper on the rocks of one such inlet below me. It had nest material in its beak. Striking to see mature elm trees in the woods: the flowers having developed into clusters of very light green winged fruits containing seeds, which will be dispersed by the wind when they dry into papery ‘samaras’ later in the season. We so rarely see elms in the south east.

A rocky riverbank covered with moss and small plants, with clear water flowing over the stones. — Zoom in for dipper!

Emerging from the wood we reached Maxton Church, dedicated to St Cuthbert. The way led away from the river and looking back we could see the church with the distinctive pair of rounded hills of the Eildons beyond. The way finding is really clear on the route. There are regular wooden way marks with the square St Cuthbert’s Cross symbol reassuring us that we are on track. A little further along the path we joined ‘Dere Street’, a Roman road where the waymark becomes a Roman helmet. Dere Street originally ran from York to near Edinburgh. We passed the site of the 1545 Battle of Ancrum between the Scots and the English. And in the distance spotted a monument on a hilltop commemorating the battle of Waterloo. About a mile from our destination we entered woods again, part of the Monteviot estate. And here we were met by Peter and a local taxi for the couple of miles drive into Jedburgh. Sprawling small town with low-lying commercial estate on the road into centre with a Scottish Woollen Mills.

Plants seen today:

Wych elm. Ulmus glabra
Few-flowered garlic. Allium paradoxum
Cuckoo flower. Cardamine pratensis
Crosswort. Cruciata laevipes
Vetch. Vicia sativa
Bluebells (or harebells as we’re in Scotland!) Hyacinthoides non-scripta
Blaeberry Vaccinium myrtillus

4 May. Harestanes to Morebattle. Templehall Inn. 11 miles.

Day 2 of the pilgrimage. Sunny most of the day, just a bit cloudy in the morning. Taxi back to Harestanes and way continued through Monteviot estate, crossing the drive. View of the turreted house built in 1840. It resembles a Loire chateau. I read that the architect Edward Blore also worked on Buckingham Palace. Walked through woodland in silence. Bliss. Birdsong, boots crunching, walking poles tapping, plashing water. The woodland led to water’s edge and a spectacular suspension footbridge. Built in 1999 when its predecessor was swept away in severe floods. Jarring sounds of gunshot in near distance: gamekeepers on the estate? On opposite bank of the River Teviot the landscape opened out to fields, SCW continuing along a riverside path until it joins Jed Water. Another belt of broadleaf woodland, with views at the woods’ edge back to the Eildon Hills and the Waterloo Monument: a pillar topped by a flame. Rested my hands against trunks of some massive lime trees: leaves still moist looking and vibrantly green. Beatrix Potter characters painted onto the trunks of some trees, including the fox, Mr Tod. Across more open land, back on Dere Street I believe. At path side saw banks of greater stitchwort (Stellaria holostea) and crosswort (Cruciata laevipes). In the latter the leaves are arranged in a cross-like formation.

We ate lunch in a clearing in the woods sitting on felled logs. Ferns at our feet. Afterwards we could see the foothills of the Cheviots which we’ll reach tomorrow. The way led on to Cessford Castle, ruined seat of the Kers, a prominent family involved in raiding parties across the border into England in the C16 and early C17, the time of the ‘reivers’.

We walked in the sunshine downhill into Morebattle, to the Templehall Inn.

5 May. Morebattle to Kirk Yetholm. The Border Hotel. 7 miles.

Day 3 of the pilgrimage. Drizzle, about 7-9°. This was the big one. The day we tackled Wideopen Hill. For about a mile after leaving Morebattle we walked along the road, past a small enclosure with two wild goats. Extraordinary curled horns. The road followed a river, Kale Water, for a stretch. We reached a ford where two brave members of the party paddled! Shortly afterwards we crossed the river on a footbridge and almost immediately afterwards began to climb towards the summit of Wideopen Hill. Deceptively steep. Walking on sheep grazed short grass with a dry stone wall on our left hand side. Glancing back: the Waterloo Monument again and the Eildons. The summit of Wideopen Hill is 368m above sea level and the highest point on St Cuthbert’s Way. We ate lunch in the shelter of a dry stone wall watching a pair of ponies, one roan the other white, on a distant hillside. Tuned in to the almost constant song of skylarks. 360° view of a rolling landscape of overlapping hillsides, a shining and meandering river to the east, Bowmont Water. Crossing the wall via a ladder stile we were met by the full force of the wind and very cold rain which had started to fall. Donned raincape. My hands immediately felt frozen and painful. With help I extracted the half mitts from my rucksack to wear under my gloves, and one of the party gave me a hand warmer which gradually brought my hands back to life. Walked downhill into the wind. Bizarre sight at foot of the hill of a big stony field of brassica stalks being grazed by a flock of sheep.

A scenic landscape featuring green rolling hills and three sheep grazing on a grassy field, with trees and a distant farm in the background under a partly cloudy sky.

A flowing stream with smooth rocks and bubbling water, surrounded by green grass and trees on a cloudy day.

Sign marking St. Cuthbert's Way at Wideopen Hill, featuring a scenic view of green hills and farmland under a cloudy sky.

Two horses, one white and one dark brown, grazing on a grassy hillside with rolling green hills and a cloudy sky in the background.

A group of hikers wearing blue raincoats walking along a grassy hillside, with a stone wall running parallel to their path and rolling hills in the background.

Welcome sign for Kirk Yetholm, stating 'Gateway to the Cheviots' with a warning to 'Please drive carefully', surrounded by greenery and a road.

Walked along the road to the outskirts of Yetholm and then the way branched to the right along a muddy track towards Kirk Yetholm and the Border Hotel. Signs marking End of the Pennine Way and Gateway to the Cheviots. At this point we are not far from the border with England. Arrived about 3.30pm. Big bathroom with a bath! Walked to Town Yetholm, to a ‘deli’ for provisions for tomorrow’s picnic, and from Yetholm Bridge saw a white egret on Bowmont Water which divides Kirk Yetholm from Town Yetholm. Fish and chips for supper. We gathered to watch episode 3 of the recent BBC Pilgrimage series which followed a group walking the paths of the Northern saints (St Oswald and St Aidan) and St Cuthbert. In that episode the pilgrims climb Wideopen Hill!

6 May. Kirk Yetholm to Wooler. No.1 Hotel. 15 miles.

Wooden signpost indicating the St Cuthbert's Way trail, with directions to Scotland and England, set against a scenic landscape of hills and blue sky.

Day 4 of the pilgrimage. Crossing the Cheviots. A fine dry day. Two long climbs. Gorse in profusion on lower slopes. Sheep pasture gave way to moorland covered in heather. Saw few other walkers. Then heard a voice way across on other side of the valley. A shepherd and his dog were rounding up a flock of sheep. The sound had carried as if he were in the next field. Reached the Border fence where there are signs: ‘Welcome to England’ and ‘Welcome to Scotland’. Song of skylarks all day. Then saw a skylark on a gate on the moor. Smaller than blackbird. Pale plumage. We disturbed a grouse as we walked along the narrow track through the heather. Stretches of boggy ground between hills. Stopped briefly near picturesque mansion with Arts & Crafts style estate cottages nearby: Hethpool House. Progressed east with several summits visible right and left including distinctive low conical outline of Yeavering Bell, site of Iron Age hill fort. Descended through woods onto a lane with an overgrown garden to the right: large white and purple lilacs overhanging the lane. This opened out into a quiet housing estate, the most inhabited area we’ve seen since Jedburgh. Soon reached Wooler town centre and the hotel. Tiny bedroom. A warm evening. Ate at Italian restaurant. Delicious pea risotto.

7 May. Wooler to Fenwick. The White Swan Inn at Lowick. 12 miles.

Street view featuring a church tower with a clock, surrounded by lush greenery and residential buildings, under a clear blue sky.

Day 5 of the pilgrimage. Sunny and fresh. Pretty walk through town and out over the bridge, past a pristine bowling green. Gentle climb on road until turned onto Weetwood Bank. Good view back to Wooler and the Cheviots beyond. Pheasant’s eye Narcissus. Onto Westwood Moor and for the first time on the trip heard a cuckoo! And again saw a skylark singing on a fence post. It didn’t move even as we walked past and around the corner of the field. To a cairn topped with large rock with hollowed out St Cuthbert’s Cross painted white. Narrow path through a wood with view of Weetwood Bridge over River Till on opposite side of a rather busy road. Crossed to the bridge. Cone topped brick turrets at far side. Interpretation board explained this was the route taken by the English Army on way to Battle of Flodden in 1513. Peter met us here with coffee.

Way continued on minor roads, open country on either side. Passed Doddington Quarry: a working quarry for pink sandstone. We paused for lunch at a crossroads next to former schoolhouse: Hazelrigg, beside a wooden monument to St Cuthbert. Depicts scenes from his life. A dense crowd of swallows and sand martins swooped around us. We walked towards trees on the skyline, St Cuthbert’s Cave Wood. National Trust. The cave is a sandstone overhang. It is said that after Viking raids on the island in 875 AD monks from Lindisfarne fled bearing the body of the saint and sheltered in the cave. The cave is much larger than I expected, and shallower. Surrounded by trees, it is a quiet and peaceful place. The route though the woods to the cave reminded me of the Dark Hedges in County Antrim, huge trees hanging over the path to create a tall and very shaded avenue.

The countryside beyond the cave is flat and open and from a crag next to the wood we saw Holy Island. We walked through a sheep pasture and into Shiellow Wood where red squirrels can be found. Saw a dedicated nesting box but no sign of a squirrel. Chatting, Lynn and I fell behind the group and for about ten minutes thought we were lost, but with some map reading and a couple of the group coming back for us we re-joined the route!

Close-up of purple flowers growing near a rocky surface, surrounded by green foliage and moss. — *Common stork’s bill*

We followed ancient ‘green road’ along the edge of Kyloe Old Wood** and into Fenwick. Saw a pied wagtail on a lawn in Fenwick. Here the community minibus brought us up the road to Lowick about three miles north. We ate at the hotel: fish and chips again! Much discussion of the route tomorrow to Holy Island. We all want to walk across the sands and weather permitting shall do so barefoot!

Plants seen today:

Climbing corydalis. Ceratocapnus claviculata. Growing at side of path in area of felled trees.
Common stork’s bill. Erodium cicutarium. On top of a dry stone wall.

8 May. Fenwick to Holy Island. Marygate Retreat House. 6 miles

Day 6 of the pilgrimage. Dry and quite bright. Rain forecast early afternoon.

It’s a couple of miles walk through farmland to the coast. We had to cross the East Coast Main Line en route. Our leader Jacqui used the telephone beside the line to call the signalman for permission to cross when it was safe. She had to call again to confirm we had all crossed safely. When we reached Beal Sands where the walk to the island begins we exchanged boots for beach shoes for the walk to the edge of the sands. Peter took our boots in the car which he drove across the Causeway. We walked a short stretch of road to where the sands began and took off the beach shoes. Jacqui had timed it so that we were crossing during the optimum period at low tide.

The Pilgrim’s Route is marked by a line of poles stretching for 2.3 miles towards dry land with a refuge box in the middle. The ‘seabed’ consists of rippled and compacted sand with pools of seawater remaining in deeper sections. The water was pleasantly warm. About halfway across is a patch of coarse grass and rutted and blackened muddy sand. Hard to walk on. After several minutes of walking, all in silence, I noticed an eerie sound, a melancholy wailing, and realised it was seals on a sandy spit between Lindisfarne and the mainland. That sound accompanied the remainder of the walk. It was easy to imagine the origin of the stories of sailors being lured to treacherous rocks after mistaking the sound for the cries of mermaids. Beyond the seals I could see the outline of Bamburgh Castle further south along the coast. And behind us the hulk of the Cheviots on the horizon. It took about 1 hour 20 minutes to cross. A walking meditation, concentrating on walking from pole to pole, taking care to avoid any sharp edged shells sticking out of the sand or deeper pools of seawater.

We ate our lunch sitting around the bench beside the shore, then walked into town. The rain had started and it set in for the afternoon. Because the accommodation wouldn’t be available before 4pm we explored the parish church of St Mary the Virgin. A modern stained glass window with local images, including seals, an eider duck, the poles, Lindisfarne Castle. At the rear of the church, an extraordinary wooden sculpture of the monks bearing the body of St Cuthbert.

Staying at Marygate House, a retreat house run by the Community of St Aidan and St Hilda. Quite a large room and shared bathrooms. Jolly supper downstairs at 6pm. The rain had stopped and walked down to see the sun setting over the upturned boat sheds.

9 May. On Holy Island.

Very wet morning. 9° feeling like 1° because of windchill. Walked along the curving path to the castle which crowns a craggy promontory. Sea thrift growing along edge of cliffs. Castle ‘modernised’ for Edward Hudson, the publisher of Country Life, by Edwin Lutyens between 1901-1906. Reworked the C16 interior. Brick herringbone floor on the long gallery on first floor. Views north to the walled garden and south to the Farne Islands. Castle is run by the National Trust. Edward Hudson commissioned Gertrude Jekyll to advise upon the planting in the walled garden, the layout of which was designed by Lutyens. The story is that she travelled north by train and was brought by horse and trap as far as was possible before having to be carried to the castle on the back of the housekeeper’s husband. According to the room guide Miss Jekyll disliked the place. Fascinating to see a reproduction of her planting scheme: drawn in her distinctive style of interlinking labelled blobs.

After lunch we explored the garden. About 1 acre and surprisingly sheltered given the windy and rainy conditions. Cordoned apple trees and a central bed prepared with wooden obelisks ready for beans or sweet peas. Plant labels painted onto stones. So simple. Metal silhouette on the wall of Miss Jekyll, based on a sketch by Edwin Lutyens.

The rain had stopped but it was still very windy when we walked across the rocky shore that separates the main island from St Cuthbert’s Island at low tide. A simple wooden cross stands at one end of the ruins of what appears to be a tiny chapel.

A wooden cross in the foreground with a coastal landscape in the background featuring ruins of buildings and greenery under a cloudy sky.

The weather cleared by suppertime so afterwards we walked along the path leading to the spot where we ‘landed’ yesterday after the walk over the sands. It was the ‘golden hour’, the tide had come in and the poles were almost submerged. Hard to imagine that 36 hours earlier we’d walked here barefoot from the mainland, to this ‘thin place’. Watched the sun setting over the distant hills of Northumberland, and over the whole of St Cuthbert’s Way, all the way to Melrose.

Kew Gardens, 16 June 2026

*The monastery where St Cuthbert began his monastic life is believed to have been sited 4km to the east of Melrose on a bend of the River Tweed.

**Kyloe Old Wood: formerly owned by the Leyland family of Haggerston Castle. I’ve since read that some of the original Leylandii cypress stock was raised here in the C19. Hybrid of two North American conifers: Nootka cypress and Monterey cypress. Very sad to think that a cultivar raised in such a peaceful spot should have become the cause of so much cross-boundary aggravation between neighbours.

A Collector Lord’s Garden: exploring Thenford Arboretum and Gardens

The sun came out as we entered the Walled Garden. We’d been assailed by horizontal rain as we got out of the car which persisted for the first part of the visit but in this expansive space, clear blue skies and almost warm sunshine prevailed. Where is this paradise when just walking through its gates triggers a meteorological miracle? It’s just one of many beautifully realised areas within Thenford Gardens, on the south-western border of Northamptonshire with Oxfordshire, where over the last forty years Tory ex-minister Michael Heseltine and his wife Anne have created a garden and arboretum around a handsome C18 house.

The Walled Garden, like everything else at Thenford, is on a grand scale. But before we arrive there, let me share with you my impressions of the gardens outside its elegantly curved-corner walls. We visited on 20 February, one of Thenford’s 18 open afternoons each year, attracted by the promise of snowdrops. Lord Heseltine holds one of the seven national collections of snowdrops listed in Plant Heritage’s 2026 directory. There are currently 670 cultivars held in his collection, many planted in generous drifts throughout the garden, some in smaller clumps at the base of trees. With such riches at one’s feet and rising far above you in the form of the collections of rare tree species, it takes a while to walk a few metres without being distracted by some novel specimen.

I do just need to veer off an a slight tangent here. At this point in the visit it struck me as not without irony that earlier that week I’d started to read Andrew Timothy O’Brien’s book To Stand & Stare with its message of ‘a more low-intervention way to garden’. Because here I was face to face with the first of several man-made features in Thenford, The Mount. What O’Brien would describe as a ‘construction of human artifice’ if ever there was, this is a grassy mound around the slopes of which a serpentine path edged with clipped box winds to a summit where sits a Cambodian guardian lion. From this vantage point he surveys a long lawn margined by multi-stemmed Amelanchiers which must look glorious when in flower in spring. Thanks to another visitor, we learned that the delicate snowdrops with yellow ovaries atop their petals, visible at eye-level from the path, were Galanthus ‘Primrose Warburg’.

Though tempted to walk straight towards the Sculpture Garden, I could see on the map that there were treasures to be found parallel with this lawned area. Firstly the Trough Garden! And we’re not talking here of shallow rough-cast containers measuring a couple of feet long and a foot across planted with tiny alpines, but a collection of about forty stone troughs which would once have been used to contain water for cattle and sheep. Many of these are planted with wisterias and dwarf conifers. A wrought iron Coalbrookdale bench painted what I now think of as Clough Williams Ellis* turquoise stands in the centre of the space. The wrought iron theme continues in the form of two exquisite gates decorated with stylised magnolia flowers and the entwined initials M and A to commemorate the Heseltines’ golden wedding anniversary. Like others at Thenford, the gates are made by North Somerset based master blacksmith, Jim Horrobin.

Resisting the urge at this stage to explore the nearby Rill which I’d read about on the Thenford website and knew was going to be spectacular, I entered the Sculpture Garden. Circular knot gardens act as fullstops at each end of a long rectangular space divided into ‘rooms’ by hedges of yew and beech, each room housing a single large sculpture or a couple of smaller pieces. The nearest circular garden is fully evergreen, with topiarised hollies and stone cupids decorating immaculately clipped box compartments. My first impression of the raspberry coloured paintwork of the metal ‘gloriette’ at the centre of the space was unfavourable, but reviewing the photographs now I can see that the slightly bluish pink works very well in contrast with the shades of green elsewhere.

As well as snowdrops and trees, the Heseltines collect contemporary sculpture. And here it is displayed to full advantage, with plenty of empty space around each piece. A standing man by Elizabeth Frink in one space, a trio of gymnasts in another. The head of Lenin you encounter in the final room is a big surprise, both because of its huge scale and the politics of the man who placed it there! Having once dominated a public square in Latvia, it was decommissioned after the fall of communism in 1989.

The other fullstop, called the Circle Garden, is centred with a marble fountain. More box compartments surround it, into which are placed terracotta urns containing more specimens from the snowdrop collection planted into black ‘grass’ Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’. Here I admired the long petals and distinct green markings of Galanthus James Backhouse.

Though empty of water at this time of year, the Rill is a magnificent sight. I’ve already mentioned the grand scale of the garden features at Thenford and this chain of rectangular pools linked by narrower channels, is very impressive. The tall yew cones standing guard on either side of the rill add to the drama of the scene.

The formal symmetry of the Rill gives way to a series of tree lined pools flowing into one another. A duckhouse floats across one, prevented from crashing into the banks by a rope tethered to the pool bed. To the left of the path skirting the eastern bank of the second pool the roots of a huge ash tree thought to be 200 to 300 years old extend across the grass, resembling moss-encrusted feet. Several clumps of snowdrops nestle between its bony toes.

Not far away an espaliered Magnolia grandiflora emphasises a curved outer corner of the Walled Garden. The walled garden is a two acre rectangle, an open expanse with height supplied by wooden obelisks, a series of domed pavilions and tall beech hedging. Along the northern wall a pretty brick cottage stands between a long range of greenhouses. I read later that this house had been built in 1926 and had been something of whitewashed eyesore with metal windows until transformed into a ‘cottage ornée‘ during the restoration of the Walled Garden. This is where the head gardener lives.

The treeless expanse is cut into quadrants with a square hedged area at its centre. This aerial view from the beautiful coffee table format book about Thenford by Michael and Anne Heseltine shows the layout of the Walled Garden.

The architect Quinlan Terry**, favoured architect of King Charles III, advised on the width and positioning of the main paths. Landscape architect George Carter designed the rest of the space. The four quarters comprise a fruit cage, a sitting area, a herb garden and an aviary. The centre houses a large modern fountain called Coanda, its name deriving from a Romanian professor of hydraulics, Henri Coanda, an authority on the phenomenon of fluids clinging to surfaces. Uniformity between the disparate sections of the garden is achieved by the placement of arched pavilions at the intersection of smaller paths. Some of these are solid sided, some open ironwork structures supporting climbing plants, and those in the aviary faced with glass or perspex, but all topped with a copper dome.

Whether curved corners in a walled garden are unusual I cannot say, but of the three inward facing curves which examined, each is memorable for different reasons. I saw a chaffinch fly out of a nest built into the space between the branches of a fig tree trained against the curve in one. In another a bronze head of Neptune surveys the scene, and in another choice specimens from the National Collection of Galanthus are arranged on shelves in the proscenium of a lead-roofed ‘theatre’ used at other times of the year to display Auricula primroses.

Two acres is a large area and the enticing paths ensure that you are constantly walking onwards to explore as much as possible of this stylish and tranquil enclosed space. It’s such a contrast to the predominantly woodland atmosphere of much of Thenford. The precision of the clipped hedges and topiarised shapes in the Walled Garden as well as elsewhere is exemplary, testament to the skills and dedication of the garden team under the leadership of head gardener Darren Webster. Although I’m not a fan of seeing caged birds, the collection of cockatiels and parakeets do have a very spacious aviary. Many of the garden sculptures throughout Thenford come in pairs, not least a pair of proud hounds either side of one of the gates to the Walled Garden.

I enjoyed seeing the motto carved into a piece of slate above another gate which I recognised from a maple leaf shaped plaque a friend bought me a few years ago. Had Cicero added friends, a cat and chocolate he would have just about nailed the recipe for a contented life.

Double herbaceous borders run the length of the southern boundary of the Walled Garden. The borders are divided into sections by curved box buttresses each adorned with a standard yew ball. The border facing south is backed by the redbrick of the Walled Garden and that facing north by beech hedging interrupted by ‘moon gates’ being trained into the hedge around ironwork supports, through which the farmland beyond the boundary of the garden can be seen. Reviewing my photographs from the visit I am puzzled by the 6 regular chem-trail lines in the top-left of the image, distinctly manmade in contrast to the wispy cloud formations. A distant Red Arrows training flight? Whatever it is it sums up the opposing forces I felt throughout Thenford, where in parts of the garden unruly nature is tamed into rigid yet elegant lines.

The ironmongery on a gate located at the western end of the ‘Allée’ between the borders exemplifies the quality of the workmanship at Thenford, the clasp a work of art in itself. At its eastern end grows a ‘castle’ constructed from monumental ‘blocks’ of yew, from the central arch of which I photographed the borders.

View of the Allée and herbaceous borders from the yew castle

The circuit of the garden continues south alongside the Water Gardens. A trio of ducks stand on the bank of the south flowing stream, on the opposite bank a stag surveys his domain from the edge of a stand of conifers.

At this point in our walk we became aware that the three hours of our open afternoon were ebbing away and we were keen to see the area around the house itself not to mention having a warm drink, the weather having closed in again. Had there been more time we might have walked around the lake and explored three mediaeval fish ponds, Japanese bridges and St Mary’s Church. Instead we proceeded along ‘Lanning’s Walk’, named for Lanning Roper the American garden designer whose advice the Heseltines had sought early in their stewardship of Thenford. A very life-like bronze raven stands atop a wall overlooking the Rose Garden. The avian theme continues near the southern elevation of the house, where a graceful pair of cormorants roost on the edge of the ha-ha which separates a wide crescent of the south lawn from the lower sward sweeping towards the main lake. High yew hedging has been shaped into a distinctive toast rack formation at the ends of the curving ha-ha. On the terrace close to the house a bird table generously hung with feeders is testament to the owners’ love of birdlife.

In a portrait hung in the tea room, Lord Heseltine wearing wellingtons and standing in a large greenhouse, waters plant-laden benches. Lady Heseltine looks on and a Westie stretches beneath a bench. Stylised vignettes of the gardens adorn the outer edges of the painting. While we relaxed with a hot drink before the drive home, the man himself, now 92, drew up to the tea room in a golf buggy to greet visitors and chat.

Michael Heseltine. Photo by Eric Farnworth.

As we headed towards the carpark I recognised Darren Webster from his photograph in the Thenford book. Two of us in our party of four on this visit had worked at Kew Gardens: Charlotte as a Visitor Services team leader and I in the Visitor Information team. While Darren’s years as a Kew Diploma student pre-dated our time at Kew, he was more than happy to chat about Kew and reminisce about his contemporaries there, many of whom are now senior members of the horticulture team. He qualified from Kew immediately into working at Thenford and has been there since 1996. He clearly relishes his role at Thenford and explained that he is supported by the equivalent of ten full-time gardeners and three volunteers. Nodding towards where his employer was standing, he acknowledged the advantage of working where the owners take such an active interest in the development of the garden.

Leaving Thenford, the late February sun bathed the Main Gate. An invitation to return? As we drove home, we agreed that we had just visited a very special garden which was more than worth seeing in another season.

Kew, 8 March 2026

*This is the colour of all the ironwork in Plas Brondanw the North Wales garden made by architect Clough Williams-Ellis a few miles from his Italianate village of Portmeirion. I was there in June 2025 and it, along with several other gardens I went to on the same trip, deserve a blog of their own.

**Researching this blog I was surprised to read that as well as the Richmond Riverside development which I walked past this very afternoon, Quinlan Terry redesigned Brentwood Cathedral, a mile from where I grew up and scene of my first holy communion. His redevelopment in classical Palladian style, supplanted the almost modernist space that in turn had replaced the sombre interior that I remember from my Sixties childhood.

Here’s a selection of some of the other photographs I took at Thenford. Ironically, having imagined that the main attraction in February would be the vast collection of snowdrops, which was truly impressive, I confess to having been somewhat distracted by the extent and impact of the garden ‘architecture’. But to see great swathes of some unusual cultivars naturalised amongst the tree collection was a huge pleasure. Three hours was barely long enough to do justice to the place. We were given an A3 map of the gardens on arrival, printed on high quality paper, which illustrates the scale of Thenford.

Mooning about at Great Comp

Featured

What is it about some days that they seem charmed in some way? Travel plans work like a dream, the weather is perfect and the welcome at the garden visited is equally warm. Such was the experience of going to Great Comp Garden in the village of Platt, near Borough Green in Kent in early August with fellow Friday morning garden volunteers from NT Osterley.

Within a few minutes of arriving at Great Comp, we admired the Black Moon heritage tomatoes in the greenhouse near the Entrance kiosk, progressed around the edge of the Crescent Lawn before spying the Moon Gate across the immaculately striped lawn known as the Square. Cue the title to this post!

A close-up image of ripe Black Moon heritage tomatoes on the vine, displaying their dark purple color and green stems. — Black moon tomatoes

A brick archway frames a sunlit garden path, bordered by lush greenery and flowering plants, leading into a serene garden space. — Black moon tomatoes

At seven acres, the garden is relatively small but because the geometric layout of the formal borders and Italian Garden give way to numerous sinuous paths weaving through mature woodland the site feels much larger. At this point I must confess that close examination of the map on my return home revealed that we had missed walking around the southern end of the garden with its North Lawn and Top Terrace. Reason enough to return for a visit in the spring.

Let’s return to The Square, the opposite sides of which house deep herbaceous borders: the hot border facing the cool border. In the former the heat of single yellow dahlias and coral salvias is tempered by the Agastache’s dusky purple spires and clumps of perennial grasses.

A vibrant display of flowers with purple spikes and orange petals lining a pathway in a sunny garden.

A vibrant garden scene featuring a mix of colorful flowers including yellow and orange dahlias, with a tall conifer and a brick house in the background under a clear blue sky.

A close-up image of yellowing flowering plants among green foliage, with bright sunlight creating a glowing effect.

Silvery leaved ‘immortelles’ (Anaphalis yedoensis) line the paths of the latter, their spherical white flowerheads mimicking the shape of the Moon Gate which punctuates the cool border. Our exceptionally dry summer had rendered the usually pallid tones of Miss Willmott’s Ghost (Eryngium giganteum) somewhat golden. Like its hot counterpart across the way, this border includes perennial grasses.

The Moon Gate leads into the Italian Garden, a narrow rectangle containing waist high clipped box compartments containing generously planted urns and classical statues. The tinkling sound of a fountain led us towards the Pond at the far end of the Italian Garden, where largely contrasting leaf shapes such as Tetrapanax and a graceful bamboo are given an injection of zinging deep pink Phlox.

A landscaped garden with neatly trimmed hedges and a stone planter filled with flowers, surrounded by trees under bright sunlight. — The Italian Garden

A stone fountain surrounded by lush greenery and water plants, with water gently cascading from its tiers. — The Italian Garden

The Crescent Lawn is a gracefully curving expanse of grass lined with shrubs and specimen conifers in multiple shades of green. A strange monument stands sentinel at the peaky end of the crescent: the Tower.

Ruined stone structure partially covered by greenery, surrounded by trees with blue sky above.

An arched stone gateway with wrought iron detailing, framed by lush greenery and flowering plants in a garden setting.

This is perhaps the largest of the ‘follies’ or ‘ruins’ made by the garden’s last private owners, Roderick and Joy Cameron, in the 1970s. Steps lead up to a viewpoint from which the contrasting colours and shapes of the tree and shrub planting around the Crescent Lawn and the lawned area called The Sweep can be seen.

A well-maintained garden pathway surrounded by lush greenery and mature trees under a clear blue sky.

A lush garden landscape featuring various trees, shrubs, and ornamental grasses under a clear blue sky.

Alongside the Tower is a curving border of vivid yellow Rudbeckia backed by dark leaved single yellow dahlias.

A vibrant flower border featuring bright yellow and orange blooms alongside lush green foliage in a garden setting.

From here the woodland paths are narrow and inviting, the shade of the towering trees lowering the temperature of the hot day by a noticeable several degrees. The Hydrangea Glade is a magical space of large, mainly white flowered specimens, gleaming in sunlight filtering between the tall trees nearby. With the southern boundary of the garden to our left we walked towards the circular Temple, from which the route wends back, slightly unexpectedly, to the rear of the Pond.

A vibrant garden scene featuring clusters of white hydrangeas in full bloom, surrounded by lush green foliage and contrasting flowering plants.

A stone lion statue surrounded by flowering plants with light green clusters, against a backdrop of lush greenery.

I was especially keen to see the salvias in the Gravel Garden, knowing that the garden’s curator, William Dyson, cultivates numerous hybrids in the onsite nursery.

Salvias have become something of an obsession with me in recent years. Their resilience, in most cases, to drought and their ability to attract bumblebees and other pollinators, is matched by their intriguingly formed flowers and colours ranging from reds though purples to intense blues, dark and light. Needless to say I bought two salvias to add to my collection: a pale yellow flowering cultivar, Salvia Lemon Light and S. Pink Mulberry. The latter has two-tone pink flowers. I’ve planted it beside the pond here but shall pot it up and protect it over winter as the label states that ‘hardiness is untested’, this variety having been bred in Australia.

A garden center scene with a woman examining plants in a greenhouse surrounded by various potted flowers and greenery. — The plant sales area

I’ve already mentioned the need to return to Great Comp in the spring to see the area we missed, and the guidebook mentions a large collection of magnolias. Let’s hope the day of that visit is equally satisfactory. And it goes without saying that I’ll be bringing at least one more Dyson salvia home with me.

Kew Gardens 5 October 2025

Here are a few more images from Great Comp

Rousham: Arcadia in Oxfordshire

In 2021, when we were still in recovery from the pandemic and growing accustomed to both socialising and learning online, I undertook a course with Oxford Continuing Education on the subject of English Landscape Gardens 1650 to the present day. We were tasked with writing two assignments, the shorter of which was an account of an C18 landscape garden. I chose a garden in Oxfordshire which many people had recommended to me as unlike anything I would have seen anywhere else. The garden was Rousham, near Bicester, which I visited a few days after my birthday in early September 2017. The garden is indeed unique, not least for banning children under 15 and dogs!

In his recent British Gardens series for the BBC, Monty Don included Rousham in his seemingly helter skelter tour of gardens across England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. He clearly holds it in great affection and highlighted many of the same features which I highlighted in my essay, which follows.

Begun by Charles Bridgeman in the 1720s for Colonel Robert Dormer, the landscape at Rousham was further developed by William Kent for his brother General James Dormer (along with the house itself) from 1737. Kent retained much of Bridgeman’s layout such as the bowling green and riverside terrace, but he softened the outlines of the amphitheatre and transformed a series of descending formal pools into a cascade, the Vale of Venus.

Figure 2 Woodland edge, Rousham. 2 Sept 2017

Solitary classical statues (Apollo, Pan, Bacchus, Ceres, Mercury) at the edges of woodland beckon the visitor to the next episode in the garden, helping to create a mysterious atmosphere of a mythical realm at one remove from the world outside.

Well-lit lawns give way to shaded groves, the progression from light through shade to light again lending an air of drama to the landscape. A channelled rill snakes through the garden to the cascade, its route interrupted by a hexagonal plunge pool.

Kent borrowed neighbouring landscape by installing an eye-catcher on a hill visible from the bowling green at the rear of the house, emphasising the attractive view of the countryside beyond the estate. This feature consists of three arches in Gothick style. He continued this theme for Cuttle Mill, a building in the middle distance, which he fitted with a Gothick gable end.

Along a ridge overlooking the curve of the River Cherwell, stands a seven-arched arcade containing a shaded walkway, the Praeneste. General Dormer installed statue busts of his Roman heroes in the Praeneste, the only hint of a political message in this otherwise escapist garden. Many Whigs opposed to Sir Robert Walpole, prime minister from 1721 to 1742, installed pantheons or obelisks honouring classical heroes in their gardens, to contrast these ideal leadership figures with the, in their opinion, less than satisfactory current regime.

Nowhere in Kent’s Rousham is there a trace of the parterres which featured so strongly in the Baroque gardens of the previous century. Nor the serpentine walks through woodland which developed as the seventeenth century wore on. At Rousham there is no defined ‘landscape circuit’ as described by Uglow[1]. Most of the episodes in the garden can be entered and exited via different routes.

Like the early Hanoverian gardens of the first decades of the Eighteenth century, Rousham has elements of the naturalistic landscape design in vogue at that time. But what distinguishes it from those gardens is the dramatic flair introduced by William Kent who had first experimented with re-creating a classical landscape in his work for Lord Burlington at Chiswick House. At Rousham he succeeded in developing the conceit that when in residence the gentleman landowner is pursuing a rural idyll of the kind advocated by Virgil and Horace.

Within thirty years of its creation, the landscape at Rousham attracted the approval of Sir Horace Walpole, who described it in a letter to George Montagu as having

the sweetest little groves, streams, glades, porticoes, cascades, and river, imaginable; all the scenes are perfectly classic.[2]

We are fortunate that the early Eighteenth century garden at Rousham survives intact, as an example of Kent’s unique ability, described by Richardson, to combine designing ‘architectural caprices’ with ‘moulding physical space’. [3]

Footnotes

[1] Uglow J. (2004) A Little History of British Gardening p.131

[2] Wikipedia entry on Rousham. Letter from Walpole to George Montagu 19 July 1760

[3] Richardson T. (2007) The Arcadian Friends p.290

Bibliography

National Heritage List for England [Online] available at https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1000107, (Accessed 21 March 2021)

Richardson T. (2007) The Arcadian Friends, Bantam Press, London.

Wikipedia entry for Rousham [Online] https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=rousham+wiki&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8, (Accessed 21 March 2021)

Uglow J. (2004) A Little History of British Gardening, Chatto & Windus, London.

Postcript

To one side of the landscaped gardens at Rousham, sits a large walled garden, complete with dovecote. My images of that section of the garden follow.

Kew Gardens, 20 February 2025

A very special trip to Sainsbury’s

Woolbeding Gardens and West Dean Gardens in West Sussex

In this ‘Twixtmas’ period of short dark days with the promise of lengthening days around the corner, it’s a good time to reflect on garden visits this past year. Despite all good intentions, the number of blogs I write by no means reflects the number of gardens I visit. Inevitably some go unrecorded, save for a clutch of digital images, secured on the cloud but destined for obscurity unless I wrangle them into a blog such as that to follow here.

In late April I was on the road to West Sussex with a friend and colleague from Kew days, who is as comprehensive in her exploration of a new garden as am I. Not a plant or design detail goes unheeded or commented upon, meaning that visits take as long as necessary for us to feel we’ve not missed an important feature or tree! That’s not to say we don’t factor coffee, lunch and tea into the itinerary. These form an important part of the day and all the better if available in the garden to be visited.

We ambitiously plotted a course to two gardens near Midhurst, a stay in an Air BnB within a stone’s throw of Chichester Cathedral, and two gardens to the east of Chichester. In this and the next blog I’ll try to do justice to the gardens we explored. The first stop on the tour was the National Trust’s Woolbeding Gardens.

Because there is no parking at Woolbeding, a minibus picks you up in the car park of the Midhurst leisure centre. The jolly driver advised us that we were in good time for the opening of the glasshouse. As veterans of Kew’s visitor services team, and used to tracking the opening times of visitor attractions in the Gardens, we noted this and didn’t ask for further particulars. On having our membership cards scanned on arrival, we were again reminded of the glasshouse opening time and yet again in the cafe where we planned to orient ourselves over a coffee before setting off around the garden. We finally twigged that this wasn’t any old glasshouse, and that something rather special was about to happen. Trying not to be distracted by tempting borders to either side, we walked down to find a small cluster of people looking expectantly at a tall diamond-shaped glasshouse. Murmuring conversations petered away and above the sound of birdsong, we could hear a low mechanical hum whilst ten isosceles triangled panes of glass forming the upper section of the house slowly opened outwards, like the petals of a giant flower responding to the sun’s rays. After the process which took about three minutes in complete silence, it felt as though we’d taken part in some form of special ceremony.

Woolbeding is a curious blend of formal, landscape and contemporary gardens. At its heart is a C17 house which was leased to Simon Sainsbury in 1972, after being given to the National Trust in 1957 by the Lascelles family.

It is difficult to believe that the garden is barely 50 years old, especially the pleasure garden area called the Longwalk alongside the River Rother, which emulates the atmosphere and style of an C18 landscape garden, complete with ruined abbey, hermit’s hut, Chinese bridge, river god and gothic summerhouse. The abbey ruins were so authentic that it came as a shock to find they dated from the late 1990s! When I read the Longwalk was designed by Julian and Isabel Bannerman, I began to recognise their trademark theatricality, as exemplified in the Collector Earl’s garden at Arundel Castle. Yellow skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) and globeflower (Trollius europaeus) were echoed in the colour of the painted Chinese bridge. A gnarly rustic fountain in The Four Seasons garden stands within a flint edged circular pool fed by a deep rill whose banks are planted with ferns and primroses.

We doubled back to designer Lanning Roper’s formal garden rooms, several of which are created around water features. High yew and hornbeam hedging divide the rooms within the old walled garden. The Fountain Garden’s centrepiece is a Renaissance style octagonal fountain surmounted by a figure of Neptune and dolphins. The original C16 Italian statue is on loan to the V&A. Trellised trained fruit trees adorn a brick wall on one side of the Vegetable Garden. The topiary and abundant greenery in that garden give way to an austere symmetry in The Swimming Pool garden.

A striking polished steel sculpture/water feature designed by William Pye dominates the elevation of the house facing the formal garden rooms. Again, this reminded me of a garden elsewhere: the eight water sculptures in the Serpent Garden at Alnwick are the work of Pye. One of these, ‘Coanda’, resembles that at Woolbeding:

THIS SCULPTURE SHOWS THE COANDA EFFECT WHICH MAKES WATER CLING TO THE UNDERSIDE OF SMOOTH OVERHANGING SURFACES, APPEARING TO DEFY GRAVITY. THE COANDA EFFECT WAS DISCOVERED BY HENRI COANDA, A FAMOUS AERONAUTICAL ENGINEER WHO WENT ON TO DEVELOP A FLYING SAUCER. HE STUDIED SCULPTURE WITH RODIN AND ENGINEERING WITH ALEXANDRE EIFFEL.

Extract from the Alnwick Gardens website

Leaving the classical formality of the garden rooms, we crossed an expansive lawn dominated by an eye-catcher, the circular Tulip Folly atop a low mound.

The garden zones of the Silk Route garden emulate the habitats of the ancient trade route from Asia to Europe, taking in the Mediterranean climate of the Istanbul region, the alpine environment of the Anatolian Plateau, followed by Iran represented by old roses and onwards to the Himalayas. Then come plants typical of Central Asia before arriving in the Chinese temperate region. Varying substrates distinguish one zone from the next, with rocks and gravel reflecting the geology of the regions along the route. The planting and landscaping throughout the Silk Route garden appear resilient to climate change: good drainage to cope with heavy downpours and a choice of species that might withstand droughty conditions without additional irrigation. In concluding my current talk to garden clubs on the topic of resilient gardening, I suggest a few gardens to visit where this kind of gardening can be seen in practice. Naturally the Silk Route garden features in my list.

The Silk Route ‘s destination is China’s sub-tropical zone inside the Heatherwick Studio’s glasshouse, designed to resemble an Edwardian terrarium, its glass ‘sepals’ opening and closing to maintain the correct temperature and climatic conditions for plants such as bananas and tender gingers.

April showers somewhat marred the afternoon visit to West Dean Gardens, a garden that I visited frequently when my parents were alive, as it was easily accessible from Petersfield where they lived after retirement. It is beautifully set, with views across the River Rother to sheep-grazed meadows at the foot of the South Downs and the St Roche’s Arboretum beyond.

The imposing flint built mansion is home to the Sussex campus of the West Dean College of Arts, Design, Craft and Conservation. The extensive walled gardens contain many restored Victorian glasshouses as well as a cutting garden area planted with dozens of tulips. I was disappointed to find that the 100m plus long Edwardian pergola was undergoing restoration, but the water gardens welcomed the damp conditions and the woodland planting was as varied as I had remembered. There’s an excellent cafe and shop at West Dean and I confess we retreated there for an hour or so to escape the elements.

We arrived in Chichester in the rain to plan the next day’s garden touring. The apartment block we stayed in was beside the multi-storey where I always parked on trips to Chichester with my parents! The apartment itself overlooked the elegant spire of the cathedral and the Downs in the distance.

Kew, 28 December 2024

In search of Richard Turner

Victorian glasshouse with curved roofs against a blue sky

Curvilinear glasshouses at two Irish botanic gardens and the Palm House at Kew

Engineer and iron founder Richard Turner (1798–1881) built glasshouses in two Irish botanic gardens before collaborating with Decimus Burton in the construction of the Palm House in Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. The first to be built was the Palm House at the Belfast Botanic Gardens completed in 1840. 1848 saw the completion of both the Curvilinear Range at the National Botanic Gardens in Dublin and the Palm House at Kew.

In early October I visited both the Irish gardens and was intrigued to observe how Turner’s glasshouses compared with Kew Gardens’ own Palm House. I had always understood there to be an Irish connection with the distinctive building at Kew that is often preceded by the adjective ‘iconic’, and erroneously thought that Decimus Burton was Irish. But a quick consultation with Wikipedia before my trip revealed that it was Dublin-born Turner who had mastered the art of creating curvilinear glasshouses through the use of wrought iron ribs linked with cast iron tubes. These glazing bars were light enough to support curving glass structures often likened in shape to the upturned hull of a ship.

Having used this innovative technology for a conservatory at a private estate in Fermanagh, Turner was engaged to build the Palm House at the Botanic Gardens, Belfast to a design by Charles Lanyon, and it was completed in 1840. The Curvilinear Range at the National Botanic Gardens of Ireland and the Palm House at Kew followed in 1848. According to historian of Kew, Ray Desmond, the collaborative relationship between Burton and Turner which resulted in Palm House at Kew was not without some tensions and once the glasshouse was completed, Turner’s role was relegated to ‘the subordinate role of a builder who had merely followed his architect’s plans’. This was despite his having devised a way to span 50 feet using the strength of wrought iron, meaning the central area was unimpeded by supporting columns. But Ray Desmond concludes that

an examination of all relevant archives reveals how much Burton was indebted to Turner’s engineering skills and ingenuity. Burton exercised a classical restraint on Turner’s tendency to decorative excess but, thankfully, did not entirely inhibit him. His scrolls and plant forms and the ubiquitous sunflower motif endow the ironwork with vivacity, even frivolity. The puritanical proclivities of Burton were counterpoised by Turner’s instinctive ebullience.

Because I started my Irish sojourn in Dublin, I’m going to take you first to the National Botanic Gardens of Ireland. Turner’s Curvilinear Range of intersecting glasshouses is located a short distance from the visitor centre and it didn’t take long to find some of Turner’s scrolls and plant forms both inside and outside the building. It’s one of two glasshouses open to the public, the other being the Palm House which dates from 1880 and, like the Tropical Ravine at Belfast (see below), is distinguished from its namesake at Kew by having a solid rather than glass rear wall.

The Curvilinear Range

The Palm House

There are many elements to Dublin’s botanic garden which occupies a relatively small area alongside historic Glasnevin Cemetery, and is intersected by the River Tolka, tributary of the Liffey. Those individual areas include a sloping walled garden with lean-to glasshouse and bothy linked by an intricate knot garden of box. Neat vegetable beds occupy the centre of the garden interspersed with handsome terracotta rhubarb forcers and pots stamped with the name Kiltrea of Enniscorthy in County Wexford. I was sad to read on Facebook that the pottery’s kilns are no longer firing and the potter’s wheel has stopped turning here at Kiltrea, the owners having retired.

On this side of the garden, which runs alongside the walls of Glasnevin Cemetery, and indeed includes a gateway into it, glimpses of the cemetery’s round tower appear through the trees. It was fascinating to explore Wild Ireland, where a range of natural areas have been replicated using characteristic soils and plants, including the distinctive limestone pavement of the Burren in County Clare, coastal habitat, various woodland habitats and a wetland area. Some of the 940 species endemic to Ireland are represented, including the strawberry tree, Arbutus unedo, which is such a feature of the woodlands around Killarney in County Kerry. Passing a colourful salvia border, I found the reconstruction of a Viking thatched hut, a reminder of early invaders of the country.

A steel sculpture looked familiar and I realised it resembled the Bootstrapping DNA sculpture outside the Jodrell Laboratory in Kew, the work of Charles Jencks, American landscape designer and architectural historian. The sculpture is called ?What is Life? and was installed to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the discovery of The Double Helix by James Watson and Francis Crick in 1953.

After four days in Dublin, I headed north to Belfast to spend time with friends from northern Virginia, London and Northamptonshire. Naturally the itinerary for this reunion visit had to include Belfast’s Botanic Gardens in the University Quarter. I visited the Botanic Gardens on a dank, drizzly morning, reassured to know that the impressive Ulster Museum is located within the Gardens, offering a cosy retreat should the rain intensify. The curving silhouette and decorative ironwork of the building indicated Richard Turner’s role in its construction. Like Kew’s Palm House it is betraying signs of age. Turner’s Palm House consists of two wings, the cool wing and the tropical wing.

By contrast to the jelly-moulded shape of the Palm House, the facade of the evocatively named Tropical Ravine across the way, looks so solid and Victorian in style that it’s a surprise to find a two storey glasshouse located behind the brickwork. The ground floor is the preserve of the horticultural team and steps lead up to the first floor (with a lift making it accessible for everyone). The perimeter walkway allows you to gaze across and down into both tropical and temperate zones and to appreciate the architectural structure of the plants featured. There’s a corner devoted to ferns, which must have appreciated the moisture generated by the misting system which operated every so often. Every day’s a school day as they say and here I learnt for the first time of John Templeton (1766-1825) known as The Father of Irish Botany.

Before I leave Ireland and return to Kew Gardens, allow me to take you on a detour to the north west of Belfast. Having revelled in the geological phenomenon of the Giant’s Causeway on the Antrim coast we returned to the city via the grounds of Gracehill House to see the avenue of beech trees planted by the Stuart family in the eighteenth century to impress visitors as they approached the entrance to their Georgian mansion. Known as the Dark Hedges, the highest branches of the trees entwine to form a tunnel almost perpendicular in form. The location was used in Game of Thrones in which it was called the King’s Road.

Knowing I was going to write this post this evening, I took several photographs of the inside of the Palm House at Kew yesterday, paying particular attention to Turner’s decorative ironwork. I suppose what strikes you with this extraordinary building is its scale, both in height and length. The building is shortly to undergo a major refurbishment, with the preparation for closure already underway.

Two ‘decant’ glasshouses are being built to house the plants from the Palm House while restoration works take place over the next several years. One is being built near the house itself and the other behind the scenes near the Tropical Nursery site.

My close-up of one of the sunflower motifs shows why the refurbishment project is necessary. Having worked at Kew while the Temperate House project took place, in the visitor information team, I fielded many comments expressing disappointment at the house being closed, and no doubt my successors will experience similar complaints about the Palm House in the months to come. But the years of negativity were forgotten when the building was re-opened in May 2018 to reveal the sparkling glasswork and paintwork of what was described in a song written to celebrate the re-opening as a ‘cathedral of light’. Roll on the day when the same can be said of a refurbished Palm House and the combined genius of Decimus Burton and Richard Turner can be admired once again.

Kew Gardens, 8 November 2024.

Postscript

Richard Turner’s ironworks in Ballsbridge in south Dublin produced not only the materials for the historic glasshouses I’ve written about in this post, but the decorative ironwork for the fanlights which adorn the front doors of the Georgian houses on Dublin’s Leeson Street. When I first started visiting Dublin with my family in the 1960s and 1970s, the tourist board produced a striking poster featuring the Georgian doors of Dublin and I’d like to think that one of them at least might have featured a fanlight made at the Turner ironworks. Here is my tribute to that classic poster.