We did have another wild bulb area, just across the drive from the formal orchard, and it was different in character. I added a lot of bulbs to this planting over the years as well, but didn't tackle it so early in my career, so my wilder excesses had had time to settle. This area was characterised by large drifts of Snowdrops early in the season, with Winter Aconites, followed by Crocuses and Daffodils. As it was quite damp, there were also Fritillaries, which did well in the shadier parts. The whole area was known as the Rookery, although there were no rooks there any more. Apparently, the destruction of a rookery is worse than breaking a mirror in the old folklore, and it is noteworthy that when the old Head Gardener took offence at the screeching of the birds some thirty years before and blasted off a shotgun at all the nests, this was followed by the house burning down. This is the reason for one of the anomalies that the more vigilant of you will have picked up on - why the climbers on the house were no more than thirty years old, whereas the rest of the garden was fifty years and more when I arrived.
In my day, nobody except the gardeners saw this display, as the property wasn't open so early in the season. Of course, some criminals crept in by the back gate to have a nose, but they didn't count, and were easily dealt with. After all, I had a man with the remedy for back-gate sneaks. The pointing finger and 'Fuck orf!'
Pity though. People would have liked it. It is all available for visitors to enjoy now, which has to be an improvement any way you look at it, especially from low down to the ground -
Again, this part of the garden was allowed to grow until July, when it was all scythed down (mechanically), raked off and kept short for the rest of the year.
The spring bulb impact was a good one, fitting with the loose informality of most of the planting, and keeping up the tradition of pastel understatement. I wouldn't change it for anything, other than unthink a few sacks of daffs I put in by mistake. It perfectly exemplified the ethos of the garden, with its formal hedges, backed up by froth, both native and ornamental. Remember how it looked, from yesterday?
Even later in the season, when bulbs were over and the grasses were up, just before we cut it all down to reduce fertility and allow the Autumn-flowering Crocuses to show, it still made a beautiful contrast between the formal and the informal -
I almost liked it more like that than at any other time, but for the best effect it did rely on a change to the hedge maintenance regime, which I intend to talk about tomorrow. Or the day after.
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