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.

Shortcuts to Idents

In our busy lives, with so much information being flung at us all the time, anything that helps us to remember useful facts without immediately resorting to Dr Google is valuable. For example, Every Good Boy Deserves Favour spells out the five lines of the treble clef. And I have a friend who can recite the whole of the rhyme reciting the royal monarchs starting Willy, Willy, Harry, Ste,
Harry, Dick, John, Harry three,
One, two, three Neds, Richard two….

The botanical world is not immune from mnemonics of this kind. Ed, a volunteer colleague at NT Osterley House and Garden, recently taught me this rhyme:

Sedges have edges, rushes are round, grasses have knees that bend to the ground.

Sure enough, sedges have triangular stems and a mature grass stem is jointed with a series of nodes along its length.

During our Friday volunteer stints we chat a great deal about plants and try our best to name what we’re weeding out or trimming back. Coincidentally on the same day that I learnt the rhyme, Jasper, assistant gardener, showed us a quick method of identifying a couple of shrubs and trees when they are not in flower. He demonstrated that dogwoods (Cornus) have ‘elasticated’ leaves. If you tear the leaf in half across the way, you can gently stretch the central rib so that the two halves of the leaf remain connected by the stretched rib. And he pointed out that cherry leaves have nectaries at the place where the leaf stalk joins the branch. Sure enough, when I got home I checked my Snow Goose cherry tree and there they were: little nodes at the base of every leaf. Intrigued as to their purpose, I found this theory on the website of the Oxford University Herbarium:

At the base of the blade of a cherry leaf there are two extrafloral nectaries, which are thought to protect the plant’s leaves from damage by herbivorous insects. The nectaries attract ants by producing small quantities of sugar-rich nectar, which appears to encourage additional patrolling by ants. If the ants encounter any caterpillars they aggressively defend the leaf, even carrying the offending animal back to their nests.

I can’t help considering the irony of the caterpillars I’m so keen to attract to the garden being prey to marauding ants. No ant activity on the tree to report to date!

Whilst writing the notes for a recent talk I gave about planting wildflowers in the garden to attract butterflies and moths, the mint family came up several times. I was reminded that a shortcut to identifying members of this large plant family, which are also called the dead-nettles (Lamiaceae), is that they have square stems. Just a light touch of the thumb and forefinger around the stem reveals the stem’s angled sides. By the way, red dead-nettle, water mint, betony and selfheal are all well-behaved wildflowers to introduce into the garden. The first two are caterpillar food plants for several species of moth, and the flowers of the last two are rich in nectar for butterflies and other pollinators.

Another gardening friend of mine distinguishes beech and hornbeam by noting that hornbeam leaves have toothed edges and beech leaves have wavy edges. When I visited Kathy Brown’s Stevington Manor Garden near Bedford yesterday, I asked Kathy if she had any quick routes to plant identification. She opened up a whole new dimension to the topic by introducing the element of light: how it plays upon a leaf or indeed the whole plant. For example, hornbeam leaves are matte and beech leaves shiny. And pointing towards tall grasses in a nearby border she showed me that light reflects off the graceful Miscanthus making it shimmer, whilst the nearby Calamagrostis overdam absorbs the sunlight and appears more solid and blocky.

I referred to the mint family earlier, one member of which is lavender. I can’t mention to the visit to Kathy Brown’s Garden without praising her fabulous edible flower cakes, not least the lavender and lemon drizzle cake. The lavender is harvested from the borders in front of the topiary jury scene in the Formal Garden. The 4.5 acre garden beside the meadows of the Great Ouse is a joy, with ‘rooms’ inspired not only by historic gardens but also great works of art. The ‘Art Gardens’ include two purple beech and Berberis lined chambers evoking Mark Rothko’s Seagram Murals. With not a drop of water in sight, Kathy and her husband Simon have recreated Claude Monet’s Water Lilies using grasses, Echinacea and Geranium Rozanne to emulate the muted shades of gold, white and violet in the paintings. There is great deal more to this garden than this and I strongly recommend a visit there this summer: details of opening times are on the website, linked above.

*Kathy Brown leading the tour with Jessica in tow*

*Looking from the fountain towards the gazebo*

Do you have quick, non-digital ways to identify plants? I’d love to hear about them. As I write this it’s 28°C in the shade, so I shall sign off for now and retreat to a cool spot to ponder the endless variations in form, texture, colour we find in plants.

Kew Gardens, 11 July 2025

‘Butterfly, tell me where do you go?’

Meadow brown butterfly on yellow wildflowers

This year’s Big Butterfly Count, the results of which were published last week, reveals the lowest number on record, prompting Butterfly Conservation, the charity which organises the count, to declare a ‘Butterfly Emergency’. Compared to 2023, participants in the survey, which ran from 12 July – 4 August, recorded almost 50% fewer butterflies during a 15 minute period, down from 12 to seven of these beautiful creatures. The Big Butterfly Count citizen science project has been running for 14 years, with this year’s 84,000 participants spending the equivalent of four years worth of time counting in gardens, parks, school grounds and the countryside.

Dr Richard Fox, Head of Science at Butterfly Conservation, said:

“Butterflies are a key indicator species; when they are in trouble we know that the wider environment is in trouble too. Nature is sounding the alarm call. We must act now if we are to turn the tide on these rapid declines and protect species for future generations.“

As well as loss of habitat, the decline is caused by the use of neonicotinoid pesticides which kill butterflies as well as other pollinating insects. Dr Fox said

“When used on farmland, these chemicals make their way into the wild plants growing at field edges, resulting in adult butterflies and moths drinking contaminated nectar and caterpillars feeding on contaminated plants. Many European countries have already banned these chemicals, it’s time for the UK to follow suit and put the natural world first. If we don’t act now to finally address the long-term drivers of butterfly decline, we will face extinction events never before seen in our lifetime.”

The charity has drafted an open letter to the Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs calling for a ban on the use of neonicotinoid pesticides. As I write this on Sunday afternoon, over 19,000 people have signed the letter: do please add your voice to the campaign to reverse the sad decline in numbers.

My summer got off to a butterfly-themed start when I took part in a concert by Kew Gardens’ staff and volunteers’ choir. As an ad hoc volunteer at RBG, Kew (helping with the annual orchid festival, commenting on draft interpretation messaging and taking part in the recent bench audit) I just about qualify to be a member of this inspirational choir which rehearses each Thursday in the church hall attached to the historic St Anne’s Church, Kew Green. One of the numbers we sang was ‘Butterfly’, a lilting and wistful evocation of the ephemeral nature of the creatures which, until recently, we took for granted as a fixture in our gardens. Written by Alan Simmons, I don’t have permission to reproduce all the lyrics but here’s a photo of my fridge door where I stuck a print out of the chorus to help me learn the words.

Let’s see how some of the species listed in the chorus fared according to this year’s list of sightings across the UK:

Tortoise Shell: Down 74% since last year.

Painted Lady: down 66%

Meadow Brown: good news at last! Up by 6% since 2023.

Holly Blue: down 80% on last year, but an increase of sightings of 35.6% since the Big Butterfly Count began.

Red Admiral: down 82% since 2023 but an increase since the count began of 28.10%.

On the afternoon of 26 July, Ruth Brookes, Natural Habitats Supervisor at Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, returned to Pensford Field for the second year running, to give a talk about butterflies. It was hot and sunny and when we ventured into the Field from the studio it was heartening to observe Meadow Browns cavorting in the wildflower meadow. Ruth explained that to date it had been a bad year for butterflies. Caterpillars need a deep cold winter to remain dormant, as opposed to the mild wet conditions last winter. This caused them to run out of energy before the end of winter.

Ruth was very complimentary about the habitats created across the Field to support the entire life cycles of butterflies. This makes it all the more sad that a couple of weeks ago, the London Borough of Richmond upon Thames notified the Pensford Field Environmental Trust that it intended to terminate its lease of the three acre site, embedded in a residential area of Kew, about half a mile from the Gardens. For 32 years, the Trust and its volunteers have managed the site, maintaining the woodland that surrounds an open meadow area, planting a productive orchard of apple, pear, quince and medlar trees and creating a wildlife pond. Two sets of local beekeepers occupy sites at either corner of the Field and a local primary school holds weekly forest school sessions there. There are regular talks there: already this year we’ve learnt about amphibians, bats and hedgehogs. I have to declare an interest here: as well as being a volunteer at the monthly work parties to maintain the Field, I’ve recently been appointed a trustee, and have given two talks there relating to gardening for wildlife and resilient gardening. To say that we are disappointed about Richmond’s decision is an understatement. We are deeply concerned that the valuable wildlife habitat provided by the Field for butterflies and many other species, might be compromised by future use of the site by an organisation for which conservation is not a primary object.

In light of the concerning news from the Big Butterfly Count, sites like Pensford with meadow planting of nectar-rich species for adult butterflies and areas of long grass and nettles for caterpillars, are vital to stem the decline revealed in the survey.

I fear that this post brings gloomy news on two fronts and want to redress the balance a little by showing some of the butterfly and moth sightings I’ve had this year (while they stayed still long enough to be photographed!).

Butterflies

Meadow Brown photographed at Pensford Field

Moths

Seduced by images of prolific yellow orange flowerheads and the fact that its common name is butterfly weed, I bought five tubers of Asclepias tuberosa this spring. Planted up in separate pots, as soon as new growth emerged it was consumed by slugs or snails. I succeeded in establishing one plant and its flowers lived up to my expectations. I didn’t see any butterflies visiting it, but I like to think that by growing it I’m improving the chances of increasing the bio-diversity in the garden. At RHS Wisley’s recent plant fair I spotted a vibrant cultivar called Asclepias Silky Scarlet. If I was a butterfly those vivid yellow flowers would certainly attract me in search of nectar. This genus includes the various species of milkweed which host the caterpillars of the Monarch butterflies which undertake the extraordinary annual migration from southern Canada to Mexico. Earlier this year I listened to a fascinating series on BBC Radio 4 about one woman’s quest to follow this migration marvel by bicycle.

I’m going to finish with a couple of paintings featuring butterflies which I’ve come across this summer. At the Queen’s Park Book Festival at the beginning of September, I saw art critic Laura Cummings being interviewed about her memoir ‘Thunderclap‘, where she showed a slide of this exquisite study by Adriaen Coorte of two peaches. The colourful portrait was one of the entries in the Herbert Smith Freehills Portrait Award 2024 at the National Portrait Gallery: Alain at Kew by Carl Randall, with the subject standing in front of verdant vegetation in the Palm House: spot the butterflies!

Do please follow the link to call for the government to ban neonicotinoids and give our butterfly population the chance to thrive once again. God forbid that the only place for future generations to see butterflies is on a gallery wall.

Kew Gardens, 22 September 2024

Weeds, prints and (butter)flies

Featured

A week in and out of the garden

After a few non-gardening days last week with family coming to stay, I returned to volunteer at Osterley, to find that an interloper had arrived in the vegetable bed in the Tudor Walled Garden that we had thoroughly weeded a week earlier. Numerous substantial seedlings of gallant soldier had pioneered their way along the aubergine and chilli pepper rows. Gallant soldier is a corruption of this plant’s scientific name Galinsoga parviflora, a member of the daisy family which bears very small white flowers amidst serrated oval leaves.

I’ve got a new plant identifier app on my phone, Flora incognita, which swiftly identified the vigorous invader. Subsequent reading reveals other common names for this fast reproducing plant: quickweed, potato weed and (my favourite) galloping soldier. It was originally collected in its native Peru in 1796 and brought to Kew Gardens, from whence it escaped, earning the moniker the Kew weed! There’s a delicious description in William Edmondes’ ‘Weeds Weeding (& Darwin): The Gardener’s Guide‘, my weed bible, of the prolific Galinsoga parviflora being brought to Kew Gardens and ‘almost immediately galloping away down the street and all over London’. This conjures a vision of it heading north along Kew Road and marching across Kew Bridge to Brentford, with a breakaway battalion hopping onto the District Line to spread across the city.

We made short shrift of the energetic soldiers after some careful weeding around the precious crops. However, I’m expecting to see them back on duty this Friday after several days of heavy showers and relatively mild temperatures.

Every day’s a school day, as they say, and my education continued last Friday with an excellent butterfly talk and walk at Pensford Field, led by Ruth from Kew Gardens, who oversees the wildlife in Kew’s Natural Area (formerly the Conservation area). She began by listing the several benefits of butterflies: as pollinators, by spreading pollen from plant to plant while drinking nectar; as part of the food chain in the form of caterpillars which feed wild birds and even wasps; as an indicator species to signal the health of an environment as well as inspiring people to take an interest in the natural world. There’s a huge amount to learn about these fascinating creatures. For example that butterflies detect smell through their antennae which means that in polluted areas their numbers can be reduced because it’s harder for them to detect sources of food. It’s a blessing that places like Pensford Field and the surrounding gardens exist to support butterfly and moth populations, given the proximity of the Field to the South Circular Road.

Other key facts that Ruth shared with us: purple flowers attract butterflies; grow nasturtiums near brassicas as a sacrificial plant to prevent large and small white butterflies from feeding on the crop; stinging nettles are a vital food source for tortoiseshell caterpillars; always site a wilder area of the garden in a sunny spot; treat brambles as a beneficial plant because they provide shelter when other habitats are not available, perhaps during droughts; when you see two butterflies ‘dancing’ in the air, they might be mating or two males fighting! Species with darker wings such as the ringlet which has charcoal coloured wings are more tolerant of shade and can be found in woodland.

Ruth’s talk coincided with the Big Butterfly Count which runs until this Sunday 6 August. I sat in the sun in my garden at the weekend and spied a day flying moth (the Jersey tiger), a holly blue and what I think was a large white.

Although I did no gardening whilst my niece and three great nephews stayed last week, we did spend time in the garden when the weather improved mid week and I introduced the two older boys (aged 7 and 9) to ‘sun printing’. Earlier this year I attended a day course on cyanotype printing at London’s City Lit in March which I reported upon in a blog post. We collected some fallen leaves during a visit to Kew Gardens earlier in their visit and I had been collecting and drying some flowers and fern fronds for a few months in anticipation of their visit. The boys enjoyed the whole process starts with treating the paper with the light sensitive chemicals, drying it the paper with the hairdrier then carefully placing their finds onto the paper. They got really excited when they saw the change in colour of the background of the images once they were exposed to the sun. We dried the washed images on the clothes line and all agreed they weren’t bad for beginners!

Kew Gardens, 3 August 2023

Ramster Gardens

Sculptures lend themselves to display in gardens. The play of light and shadows cast by trees and shrubs brings them to life. A sculpture can be viewed from all angles and if sympathetically positioned, enhances the space in which it stands. I was fortunate to witness just such effects when I was invited to the final day of the Surrey Sculpture Society exhibition last Monday at Ramster Garden, Chiddingfold, Surrey. The exhibition featured 93 mainly figurative works in a beautiful woodland garden setting.

Ramster Garden is in the The Weald, the area between the chalk escarpments of the North Downs and the South Downs, from Hampshire in the west to Kent in the east. The garden’s acid to neutral Wealden clay soil with pockets of sand, provides the perfect conditions for growing rhododendrons and azaleas. The garden was originally created out of native oak woodland in 1890 and added to from 1922 by the great grandparents of the current owners. The sloping site and rich collection of acid-loving plants reminded me of the grounds of Caerhays Castle in south Cornwall which I visited in April.

Unlike that visit, when it drizzled ceaselessly all afternoon, the weather on Monday was perfect: bright sunshine and a gentle breeze. Our route took us past the formality of the Tennis Court Garden along Acer Avenue to a path around the western perimeter of the garden into the Valley of the Giants. Here there are magnificent specimen trees including redwoods. Before the descent into the valley, there are broad swathes of meadowland awash with oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare), meadow buttercups (Ranunculus acris) and wild orchids: possibly purple orchids (Orchis mascula), but I shall have to ask an expert to verify that. Set amidst the meadowland I spotted a graceful Acer backed by a huge white Rhododendron and unusual shrubs such as Japanese snowball (Viburnum plicatum Grandiflorum).

The nursery which supplied many of the trees and shrubs when the garden was first laid out, Gauntletts of Chiddingfold, specialised in Japanese ornamentation as well as plants, and this Japanese influence can be seen in ornamention around the garden, including a striking red bridge. The perimeter path eventually led us to The Bog Garden and a stand of Gunnera manicata, another reminder of my recent Cornish trip. The route of a rill flowing from Ant Wood was traceable upstream by a brightly coloured ribbon of candelabra primulas. As well as a collection of hybrid rhododendrons, I noticed in Ant Wood a pretty tree dripping in scarlet, the ‘keys’ of a snake bark maple cultivar, Acer davidii Serpentine, sometimes called Père David’s maple. Père David (1826-1900) was a French zoologist, botanist and missionary in China after whom several species have been named (see below).

To mark the centenary of the current owners’ family’s association with Ramster Garden, a new garden was laid out in 2022, the beds radiating from a stone Japanese lantern. A carved wooden dragon fashioned into a bench stands guard. Nearby on Loderi Walk stands the Loders White rhododendron, festooned with large white flowers. This is one of the hybrid rhododendrons bred by Sir Edmund Loder in the early C20, at the Leonardslee estate in Horsham about 18 miles to the east of Ramster. I love to see the lower limbs of rhododendrons removed to highlight the sculptural form of the trunks and branches and I noticed this had been done in a number of places, making a perfect backdrop for a colourful pair of parrots. And the bare trunks of Rhododendron Cynthia are sculptural forms in their own right.

I noticed a couple of fine handkerchief trees displaying a profusion of fresh white bracts, a full month after I had seen them in Glendurgan in Cornwall: a demonstration of the mild climate enjoyed in the valley gardens of south Cornwall compared with the south east. This is another plant named for Père David, Davidia involucrata and is sometimes called the dove tree.

The placement of the sculptures along the main path through the centre of the garden was masterful, taking full advantage of the woodland surroundings. For example, a charming sculpture of Red Riding Hood.

I detected a few themes running through the sculpture exhibits: dance, animals, particularly cats both wild and domesticated, birds, horses (especially their heads) and humans with their dogs. Not falling into any of these categories were the graceful Flora, the quirky photographer ‘Watch the Birdie’ and Shelf Life. I’ve picked out a few of my favourites in the images which follow.

Ramster Garden is open until 2 July. I plan a return visit for the autumn colour when it re-opens from 16 September to 12 November. Thank you to Beth Meades of Limeflower PR for inviting me and a friend to Ramster and to Rosie Glaister of Ramster Hall and Gardens for welcoming us on Monday.

Kew, 1 June 2023

Blue Monday

I spent yesterday on a one day course in cyanotype printing at the CityLit Institute in Holborn. I’d come across cyanotype prints in a couple of amateur art exhibitions and in a Landscape magazine article about an artist who prints onto fabric from which she makes lampshades and soft furnishings, and thought I’d like to try it. In case you’re wondering what this has to do with gardens and gardening, it’s a technique that has been used since it was invented in the C19 to document plant material.

The story starts with the astronomer Sir John Herschel who invented the cyanotype printing process in 1842. His friend Anna Atkins (1799-1871) is credited with being the first woman to create a photograph and the first to publish a photographically illustrated book. She was, first and foremost, a botanist and adopted this new technique to record with great accuracy the plants and seaweed she collected and studied. She often dried and pressed the plants she portrayed before laying them out for the image. Many of her works are now in the collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum.

Our tutor Adam Hogarth explained that by the end of the course we would have learnt how to make cyanotypes using both photographs and found objects. The first step is to coat the paper with ‘iron salt’ a solution combining two chemicals with bottled still water. Adam prepared the light sensitive solution in a plastic flask and kept it in a cupboard to protect it from daylight until we needed it. Fortunately the day was very overcast and the light levels in the studio were low, because the process should be carried out in subdued light.

Using Canaletto 330g paper, we painted on an even amount of solution with a broad dry brush, leaving it to dry in a dark cupboard until needed. This usually takes about an hour, but the process can be speeded up by using a hair dryer. These sheets are called contact sheets.

Before I go on to describe the various techniques we learnt for creating the images which we were to learn how to print using the cyanotype printing process, here is the recipe for the solution:

10g Potassium Ferricyanide: using still bottled water, make up to 100ml in a calibrated flask.

25g Ferric Ammonium Citrate: ditto

Make sure both components are thoroughly dissolved before combining them.

*The components of the light sensitive solution*

Technique No. 1: Digital acetate

We emailed a few images to Adam who used Photoshop to convert them to black and white, he then adjusted the images for brightness and contrast before turning them into negatives and printing them onto A4 acetate sheets.

I chose four photographs: Seamus the cat on the kitchen windowsill, a scene from Kew Gardens with the Davies Alpine House in the background, a Euphorbia flower head and a pair of snowdrops photographed at East Lambrook Manor Gardens in February (Galanthus plicatus Phil Cornish).

Technique No. 2: Autographic marks

This was the bit I found very challenging: the brief was to hand draw bold marks on tracing paper using a selection of black wax crayons, a Japanese calligraphy pen, black markers etc. The blacked out areas would appear white when printed. I tentatively made some random shapes with a wax crayon, trying to make the blacked out areas as dense as possible. Drawing is not my strong suit and part of the appeal of this printing method is to create something artistic without having to draw!

Technique No. 3: Found objects

Plant material such as fern fronds, leaves or seed heads seem the obvious subject but I learnt that you can use all sorts: feathers, lace, scraps of woven fabric such as scrim, anything that might create a pleasing pattern on the finished print. Because we were using a light box with a rubber cover which was suctioned down flat onto the objects whilst they were being ‘printed’, our found objects had to be relatively flat so as not to damage the cover. Wineglasses were not allowed!

Next came the fun part: placing the acetate, tracing paper or found objects (or a combination of them) onto the surface of the lightbox and covering them with a contact sheet before closing the lid and pressing the GO button. The lightbox was on a setting of 55F meaning it was on full beam. A thin sliver of UV light was visible around the edges of the cover while the lightbox rumbled loudly during the period of exposure. Lifting the lid, we transferred the contact sheets into a bath of tap water to wash off the yellowy green solution. Swirling the paper around in the bath the image begins to emerge against a blue background which, as the paper dries, intensifies to a deep indigo. We stuck our images to a screen above the bath to drip dry for a few minutes before moving them to a huge multi-sectioned drying rack.

The original and most low tech method for developing cyanotype prints is to harness the sun’s UV light by exposing the contact sheets in bright sunshine. The rest of the process is much the same, save that because the light source is from above rather than below the contact sheet is placed facing upwards with the found object or the acetate* placed upon it. A sheet of glass or a perspex clip frame is used to hold the subject flat.

Once we’d printed a couple of conventional sheets using found objects and acetates, we were encouraged to experiment by mixing our source material. I tried superimposing a fern onto my Kew Gardens photograph, and popped a cut out of a snowdrop acetate onto the same image, resulting in a rather ghostly scene!

Cyanotypes can be tinted using tannin (tea, coffee, red wine!) to substitute sepia tones rather than an intense blue. Adam also told us about another technique, anthotype printing, where the light sensitive solution is made from strongly pigmented plants such as spinach leaves or beetroot instead of chemicals. The plants are mashed up in a blender and strained through a muslin, the liquid is used to create a light-sensitive contact sheet with the images or objects being placed on top of it as outlined above before exposing the sheet to the sun. Rather than blue, the images emerge in green or dark red, depending on the material used. It struck me this would be a great activity for the great nephews on a hot summer’s day.

I’d no idea until attending this course how popular cyanotype printing is and the extent to which you can make quite abstract images. I’m abuzz now with ideas for perhaps a seaside themed image, using shells and seaweed or for a cyanotype record of the flowers in the garden through the seasons.

*The image printed onto the acetate should be a digital positive when printing with a light source from above.

At lunchtime I walked across Kingsway to Lincoln’s Inn Fields and through to New Square in Lincoln’s Inn where I worked in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Although the squares and courtyards of this atmospheric Inn of Court are still lit by gas light I noticed that a concession to the 21st century has been made with the installation of electric car charging points. I admired the beautiful planting in the garden areas of the Inn, exemplified by this stunning combination of Euphorbia and Stachyurus praecox in the garden to one side of New Square.

I think this was my favourite image from the eight or so I made yesterday, combining the skeleton of a magnolia leaf, a piece of fern and a cut out acetate of an unusual snowdrop (Galanthus plicatus Phil Cornish).

There’s more to Somerset than Glasto

3 Somerset Gardens 1 and 2 June 2022

In late July a ginger kitten called Seamus, born 7 May, will be taking up residence chez Weeds Roots & Leaves. Knowing that trips away will be limited for a few months while he settles in, I’ve been cramming in some garden visits. Four weeks ago, I made a three-day road-trip to Hampshire and Somerset, taking in four glorious gardens and a horticultural gem of a nursery.

The first day I made two visits in Hampshire arranged by the Garden Media Guild, to Hardy’s Cottage Garden Plants in the morning and then on to the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens. The Guild asked me to write an account of the visit for the next edition of GMG News which I’ve done. I’ll publish my blog post about the visits later in the summer and concentrate in this post on the Somerset leg of my trip when, incidentally, I met Seamus for the second time.

I stayed with a very old friend (by which I mean we’ve known each other a very long time, not that she’s very old!) in the New Forest after the Guild visits. Her garden is a delight and includes a beautiful rose garden which was looking stunning. She has planted the raised bed either side of the steps leading down to the rose garden with David Austin rose Harlow Carr and it’s the perfect scale for such a position. Several weeks earlier, a deer had got into the garden and nibbled dozens of buds off the roses, but there was no sign of this when I was there and the roses had revived, healthier than ever.

The next morning, we drove north west across Cranbourne Chase towards Somerset, our destination Durslade on the outskirts of Bruton. Cranbourne Chase is designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. I cannot better the Chase’s website https://cranbornechase.org.uk/about-us/the-aonb/ which describes it as ‘a diverse landscape offering areas of rolling chalk grassland, ancient woodlands, chalk escarpments, downland hillsides and chalk river valleys each with a distinct and recognisable character’. What struck me in particular was how few villages there are and how remote and unspoilt it is.

In Durslade, we met another old friend at Hauser & Wirth Somerset, the impressive arts centre which is, remarkably, free. The current exhibition ‘Henry Moore Sharing Form’ is housed in the converted farm buildings with some pieces displayed outside.

I’ve been wanting to visit the centre for a number of years, attracted by Oudolf Field, the perennial meadow designed by Dutch landscape designer Piet Oudolf. The date was 2 June and the prairie effect less obvious than I imagine it to be further into summer when the members of the daisy family with warm colours and distinctive seedheads will dominate the planting. For now, the overall impression is of cooler blues and mauves, with Siberian irises, alliums and foxtail lilies adding height and grasses movement.

The site rises gently towards the squat white Cilic Pavilion with grassy paths winding around the metal-edged island beds. There is a broad central gravelled path interrupted by low grassy mounds which have been closely mowed and resemble smooth green pebbles.

The pale blue flowers of what I’ve since learnt is called bluestar (Amsonia– see more below) matched the blue of the sky and toned with the slate roofs of the gallery buildings. I noticed that the starry flowers were an attraction for bumblebees. Its needle-like leaves will, I have been reading, turn yellow in autumn. Like so many of the plants here, it has been chosen to extend the period of interest in the garden beyond spring and summer. I want to see this fascinating place in the winter when I anticipate that Oudolf’s signature seedheads and grasses will dominate the site.

Another unusual plant that caught my eye on the margins of the wildlife pond was the flowering rush, Butomus umbellatus. The planting combinations throughout are so clever: for example here are the flat umbels of a pale pink Achillea alongside the leaves of the chunky but also horizontally inclined Darmara peltata.

I have read that the garden resembles a giant artist’s palette, an appropriate description for a garden in such a location.

In a location to the edge of the ‘field’, stands a piece of land art by Richard Long, Stone Circle 1980, made from Swedish Granite. Our lunch at Hauser & Wirth was delicious, sitting in the large courtyard café and enjoying being together in the sunshine.

Oudolf Field was created in 2014. Our next stop, The Newt, is even younger. The garden in its present form opened to the public in 2019. I say present form, because there has been a garden here since the C18, namely the grounds of Hadspen House, now a luxury hotel. An English landscape garden with a parabola shaped walled garden, was transformed in the 1960s and 1970s into a C20 arts and crafts garden by designer Penelope Hobhouse, whose family owned the house. The estate was bought in 2013 by South Africans Karen Roos and her billionaire husband Koos Bekker who have created a visitor attraction in the mould of the garden attached to their South African winery, Babylonstoren.

This was my second visit and like my first, merely scratched the surface of the place. On both occasions, I have had limited time to explore and shall do so on another occasion. But what I have seen each time has made a huge impression on me. The sloping parabola planted with apple varieties from all the apple growing counties in the country, intersected by rills and pools, was a magnet for my great nephews when we were there on a hot July day after the first lockdown two years ago. Fantastical birds feature in topiary fashioned atop hedging alongside the brick wall surrounding the parabola. Beyond the huge kitchen garden, are the Colour Gardens, a series of rooms each dedicated to red, blue and white. An interpretation panel explained that the gardens pay tribute to Sandra and Nori Pope who created colour gardens when they leased the gardens in the 1990s. The gardens are separated by wattle screens, into which oval ‘windows’ have been fitted, offering tantalising glimpses into the garden next door.

I was excited to see that Amsonia featured in the Blue Garden, and thanks to another panel, that it was the same species as that I’d seen that morning at Oudolf Field, Amsonia tabernaemontana. Retreating to the shade of the Cottage Garden for ice-cream, we didn’t explore any further and I’m saving that treat for another occasion. I was anxious by then to drive the dozen or so miles to my niece’s house where I was taking over cat-sitting duties for a day or so. I had in fact met Seamus the previous week when he was only three weeks old and I was struck by how much the four kittens had grown in a week. Their eyes now open, they were beginning to explore a little beyond the warm security of mum, though not venturing far and still a little unsteady on their legs.

The next morning, having made sure all was well with the cats and kittens, I headed to a delightful National Trust property, Lytes Cary Manor, a short drive away. With origins as a mediaeval manor house, the house was extended in the C16 and restored in the early C20 by Sir Walter and Lady Flora Jenner. I enjoyed the tour of the house very much. Its scale is modest in comparison to many historic houses, and does still retain the air of a home, thanks to its being fully furnished and lovingly tended by the Trust. A late C16 occupant of the house, Henry Lyte I (c.1529-1607) was a botany scholar and translated a Flemish herbal illustrated with 870 woodcuts of plants. The book is on display in a glass case, protected from light by a leather covering when not being scrutinised by visitors. It was open at a page featuring thyme and pennywort. In a mirror frame dating from the C17, the stumpwork embroidery had been added to by Sir Walter’s sister in law with a panel depicting the house and part of the garden.

The present garden layout dates from 1907 when the Jenners began to create a garden in the Arts and Crafts style so fashionable in Edwardian times. Three sides of the house are surrounded by a series of ‘garden rooms’ divided by yew hedges and stone walls. The main entrance to the house is on the east front, reached by a stone path flanked by 12 yew bushes, each topiarised into an immaculately clipped half sphere topped by a cone. This is the Apostle Garden. I hope the photos capture a flavour of the gardens with their formal topiary, stone walls and gateways and exquisite planting.

‘.

And finally, Seamus the kitten!

Kew

2 July 2022

From River to Green

65-73 Kew Green, NGS openings 22 & 29 May 2022

Imagine a 300 foot long garden behind an elegant Georgian house, running down to the towpath along the southern bank of the River Thames. Now imagine five such gardens, each divided into a series of ‘rooms’, rambling roses and Clematis softening the boundaries between each garden.

These five gardens, 65 to 73 Kew Green, open for the National Gardens Scheme on two Sundays every May, raising funds for charities including Marie Curie and MacMillan Cancer Support. I enjoyed my first visit on the afternoon of 22 May so much that I returned with another friend on the evening of 29 May.

Entered via gates along the towpath, each garden boasts an impressive compost area and some have leaf mould piles as well. Next come the kitchen gardens, ranging from rectangular box-edged beds to a potager blending vegetables and ornamentals. Planting styles and colour schemes vary from one garden to the next.

One garden, the narrowest, adheres to a restrained palette of greens and whites, the borders punctuated with carefully trimmed box balls and yew pyramids. A soft cottagey style of planting predominates elsewhere, borders billowing with roses, peonies and irises. Euphorbias introduce a lime green accent here and there.

Each garden includes a woodland garden, exploiting the shade provided by the very mature trees planted along the towpath, the perfect environment for shade-loving plants like Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum x hybridum). In one, variegated ground elder (Aegopodium podagraria ‘Variegatum’) lightened what might otherwise have been a gloomy spot.

There were some stylish garden pavilions and studios, one of them spanning the width of the garden, and a few well-placed sculptures.

Lawns are immaculate, but sizeable areas had been left unmowed in the spirit of ‘No Mow May’. The lawns tend to be closer to the houses, and surrounded by generous shrub borders. I was impressed by the variety of trees: including the maidenhair tree (Gingko biloba), contorted willow (Salix Tortuosa) and black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia). Pot gardens occupy some of the paved areas adjoining the houses.

73 Kew Green is I believe, the widest of the gardens, and features a small orchard, the trees set amidst a meadow through which inviting paths have been mown. In at least two of the gardens, sympathetic hard landscaping has been used to create ponds and water features, tranquil focal points in already peaceful spaces.

I succumbed to the temptation to buy a couple of plants at the plant sale set up at no 73, both relative rarities. Here are the descriptions provided by the donor of these plants:

Malvastrum lateritium. In full sun and well drained soil this little mallow gives many flowers of a soft orange with a red eye. Its stems sometimes root as they creep about. Its perfume was once described by a friend as like a ‘high class talc’. From N. Argentina, S. Brazil.
Lychnis ‘Hill Grounds’. A chance hybrid from Janet Cropley’s garden, Hill Grounds, Northants. Lychnis flos-jovis x L coronaria. A sterile hybrid, therefore grows plenty of bright pink flowers over a long period.

In my garden this afternoon I reduced two large clumps of Michaelmas daisies beside the trellis which supports climbing rose ‘Blush Noisette’ with a view to revamping that part of the flower bed and shall plant these new acquisitions, as well as Anthriscus sylvestris Ravenswing, which I bought last Wednesday morning at Hardy’s Plants after a marvellous tour of the nursery led by Rosie and Rob Hardy: the subject of my next blog.

Before finishing, I want to thank the owners of the Kew Green gardens for their generosity in opening their gardens for the NGS and their patience with visitors like me asking lots of questions.

Kew, 5 June 2022

Mills, Moats & Monets

What links a grand house on the Strand, a textile town in Essex and a mansion in south east London? Answer: the Courtauld family. The weaving dynasty has left its mark on Somerset House, Halstead and Eltham Palace.

Halstead

In the 1820s Samuel Courtauld established Townsford Mill on the river Colne in Halstead, in north Essex, for the manufacture of silk crepe. Throughout the C19 and much of the C20, further textile factories were built in the town, but with manufacturing costs soaring, production moved abroad and those buildings have been re-purposed to accommodate, for example, the Co-op supermarket. When a friend and I visited Beth Chatto’s Garden and Hyde Hall last October, we stayed at a pub in Halstead. The names displayed on the front of the 1920s houses opposite the pub piqued our interest: Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park. Spotting a pattern, we soon found Northanger Abbey, Persuasion and Emma. Each house also bore the initials, SAC. A spot of googling revealed that these were built by Samuel Augustine Courtauld as homes for his workforce. Apparently, elsewhere in the town there are houses bearing the names of novels by Fanny Burney. I can find nothing to explain why the Arts and Crafts style houses were named after novels in this way. Unlike the Cadburys who built an entire community (Bournville) to accommodate their workers, the Courtaulds seem to have preferred building such homes throughout the town.

Townsford Mill with the River Colne in the foreground

Eltham Palace

The Courtauld name reminded me of a of visit three years ago to Eltham Palace, the unique property now run by English Heritage. In 1933 Stephen Courtauld (1883 – 1967), younger brother of SAC, took out a 99 year lease of the site of the childhood home of Henry VIII. All that remained of the palace was the huge Great Hall built by Edward IV. Stephen and his wife Virginia built a luxurious home in the then fashionable Art Deco style, incorporating the hall into the design. The palace is surrounded by a moat which is an integral part of the garden. The moat is partly dry but this aerial view illustrates the extent of the water-filled section of the moat.

Much of this garden on two levels was laid out by Stephen and Virginia in the 1930s, and more recently English Heritage has developed it further. For example in 2000 they commissioned garden designer Isabelle van Groeningen to re-design the planting in the monumental herbaceous borders. When I was there in late August, these deep borders between brick buttresses were billowing with drifts of golden Achillea, bronze grasses, succulent Sedum (now Telephium) with their burgundy stems and leaves and pink flowers. Elsewhere a mass planting of creamy petalled roses made an impact. Irish yews fashioned into columns stood sentinel at each corner of a rectangular pond in the centre of the rose garden. A charming carving on the wall of the palace depicts Virginia ‘Ginny’ Courtauld in her wide-brimmed gardening hat, surrounded with a garland of flowers and leaves, a basket of fruit, the handle of a border fork and a long-spouted watering can completing the picture.

The Courtauld Gallery

When I began work in a small law practice in the City of London in 1980, there was a weekly run to the Stamp Office at Somerset House on the Strand, where, upon payment of the duty (with a banker’s draft: remember them?) the relevant deed was stamped using an archaic looking machine where the clerk operated a lever to press down on the document to emboss the stamp. I loved this weekly ritual which was a great opportunity to get out of the office for an hour or so and exchange the traffic on the Strand for the C18 elegance of Somerset House*. Now that stamp duty is paid electronically the practice of stamping a document with evidence of payment is no longer necessary. The Revenue (now HM Revenue & Customs) moved out of Somerset House in 2013. Gone are the black and gold stamp machines, to be replaced by a number of organisations associated with the arts including the Courtauld Gallery. This houses the world-famous art collection of Samuel Courtauld (1876 – 1947). The collection has recently been re-hung and I went to see it a week ago, my last visit having been about ten years ago. I concentrated on the top floor of the gallery where the Impressionist and Post-Impressionists are located.

Many of these paintings feel like old friends, the images are so familiar from reproductions. I’d forgotten how many of the paintings depict gardens and plants.

If the artworks are impressive, so is the room in which most of them are displayed. The Great Room as it is called hosted the annual Summer Exhibition of the Royal Academy from 1780 to 1837.

*The Exhibition Room at Somerset House* by Thomas Rowlandson and Augustus Charles Pugin (1800).

It’s quite an arc isn’t it, from a silk mill on a riverbank in Essex, via a medieval palace meets Art Deco mansion to a priceless art collection in one of the grandest buildings in London? I’ve enjoyed my visits to all three of these places associated with the formidable Courtaulds.

*There’s a connection here with Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew: the principal architect of Somerset House, from 1775, was Sir William Chambers, designer of the Pagoda in the southern section of the Gardens.

Sculptures and Serpents

Featured

In the garden at Chatsworth House: Part 2

Since visiting Chatsworth almost five weeks ago I have discovered the Channel 4 documentary Chatsworth House: A Great British Year. I’m glad not to have come across it before as it’s fun to see the house and garden again and learn how such a vast enterprise works. The kitchen garden featured in one of the shows and like everything at Chatsworth it is beautifully designed and cultivated. Even at the end of November when most of the crops had been harvested, there was plenty to see and interesting details to examine.

The kitchen garden occupies a sloping west-facing site of about three acres. A relatively new addition to the gardens, it was created in the early 1990s. As in the wider garden, water has been channelled from parkland behind the garden to feed rills and ponds. I was interested to see tulips being planted in handsome terracotta pots, tucked into a nook beside the cold frames. The lower boundary of the garden is formed by a tightly clipped beech hedge. Large golden stalks adorn a trio of metal frames fashioned into apples and a pear, each housing a yew shrub which in the years to come will fill out the frames to form topiary fruits at the entrance of the garden. Rhubarb forcers from Whichford Pottery in Warwickshire stand to attention like terracotta warriors. A couple of stone plaques caught my eye: a quirky mission statement for creativity from dress designer Paul Smith and a heart-shaped memorial to the late Duchess Deborah. Straight rows of chard and brassicas appear to radiate from the corner of the large plots in which they are planted.

Unmistakeable for their charred finish, David Nash’s sculptures look entirely at home in the Arboretum which occupies the upper slopes of the gardens. The gardens are separated from the surrounding parkland by a ha-ha, the eighteenth century innovation which enables a garden to blend seamlessly with the landscape beyond. Here the ha-ha is a stone retaining wall. I noticed that a meshwork fence has also been fitted near the top of the wall, presumably to deter deer from entering the garden and munching the rare specimen trees. On the subject of dry stone walling, an installation called ‘Emergence’ demonstrates the evolution of this ancient craft, fundamental to the rural landscape of not only Derbyshire but so many other areas of the country. It contains one giant rock, a reference to the practice of using naturally occurring boulders in field walls. The transition from the older random style of limestone dry stone walling to the more modern sandstone wall of shaped stones is marked by a giant pane of glass. The interpretation panel informed me that the glass also represents Joseph Paxton’s pioneering work on the Great Stove at Chatsworth which led to him designing the Crystal Palace for the Great Exhibition in 1851. Giant redwoods tower above the other conifers in the Pinetum, an echo for me of the area of Kew Gardens devoted to these majestic trees.

More nineteenth century technology features in much of the seating around the gardens at Chatsworth. Cast iron benches with a plant inspired designs are placed around the remains of the Great Stove and in the terrace beside the 3rd Duke’s greenhouse. I found nasturtiums, passionflowers and lilies of the valley, as well as a design showing gardeners sowing, raking, harvesting and scything.

The Serpentine Hedge separates the Maze from the woodland area beside the Canal Pond. A double row of symmetrically planted beech which curves in and out, this dates from 1953 and was inspired by the ‘crinkle-crankle’ walls found in many old gardens, the alternating concave and convex planes providing stability. Seeing the north face of the house reflected in the Canal Pond, the Emperor Fountain rising skywards in the centre, has to be one of my highlights of 2021. This end of the garden also contains more remarkable sculpture: a horse’s head by Nic Fiddian-Green

and Allen Jones’s Dejeuner sur L’Herbe, a 3D take on Edouard Manet’s famous painting. If asked to name a favourite work from the garden, I would choose Cornwall Slate Line by land artist Richard Long, which runs parallel with the Canal Pond. Not far away Dame Elisabeth Frink’s Walking Madonna strides through a grove of trees.

The north front reflected in the Canal Pond

The family’s dogs appear in several sculptures nearer the house, faithful hounds keeping watch or assembling on the steps leading to the north front with its Ionic capitalised pilasters and windows framed in gold leaf. A frieze above the windows features coiled serpents, part of the Cavendish family crest. This motif is picked out in a pebble mosaic on the terrace near the 3rd Duke’s greenhouse, reminding me of the two dachshunds, Canna and Dahlia, immortalised in similar fashion in the Walled Garden at Great Dixter.

Classical statuary also abounds in the gardens, reminding me that this place has been a treasure house of art for many centuries. More mundane perhaps, but elegant in its own way, is the weather station on the Salisbury Lawns near the Broad Walk where temperature, rainfall and hours of sunshine are recorded and reported to the Met Office.

I shall leave you here with a final image from my memorable visit to Chatsworth, Flora’s Temple decorated for Christmas.

Well, not quite the last image. The finger post pointing the way to Chatsworth marked my exit in the early evening dark from the park into the village of Baslow where I was staying. It’s also inviting me back one spring or summer to explore further and to see Dan Pearson’s Trout Stream planting and Tom Stuart-Smith’s Arcadia in their full glory.

Kew, 29 December 2021