However, what all these people seemed to have failed to observe was that we had a seam of slightly acid clay soil on the North side of the garden, where the Old Man, obviously feeling the lack-of-Rhododendron pinch, had planted various acid-preferring plants. It is true that it provided an extra dimension, unexpected in a chalk garden, but I also think he might have been better using the depth of soil to grow other plants to perfection which used to struggle in the shallower soil elsewhere. Never mind - my job was both to restore and conserve/preserve, so I felt it my duty to try to improve this area in its existing style. Not that I would have been allowed to change that anyway.
It was cursed by its advantage in a way. The clay that provided the alternative growing medium which was so treasured, was also the reason why the path continually failed and had to be shut for substantial parts of the year, as the thin grass became slippery and wore out quickly. The plantings consisted mainly of a few deciduous Azaleas, some overgrown Camellias and the odd Magnolia, none of which really looked as if it was thriving. Along the main drive, contributing to the deliberately dark entrance to the property, were a few straggly Rhododendrons, underplantings to Holly, Podocarp and Yew. This area opened out at the corner of the drive, where it turned at right-angles towards the house, and suddenly and unexpectedly flooded the view with light. It was effective, there was no doubt about that, in creating surprise, but the plants needed work.
For a long time, we maintained the Magnolia Garden, as it was called, as best we could, pruning hard, adding in a few new plants, and closing the path almost every time it rained. It looked a bit like this -
From the other end (it was a fairly short path) it stood up to the wear little better, and remained closed to the public for much of the season -
Eventually we took the decision to replace the path with bark so that we wouldn't have to deprive visitors of the experience, and also so that we wouldn't have to be constantly wasting our time closing it off. I am surprised to find that it took ten years for us to arrive at this decision, although I suspect that it was seen as a major change to the fabric and I probably had to argue my case strongly for a number of years before getting the go-ahead. The result certainly changed the character of the area, but at least it was now accessible. Sorry about the out-of-focus pics. I must have been shaking with excitement that day -
The pruning of the Camellias, another plant I don't much like, had let more light in and created planting pockets for new plants, none of which is shown in the following illustrations. Patience. There's always tomorrow.
So there you are. Our concession to the Rhododendron fanciers out there. And I always felt the need to apologise that it was not a feast. That if that was what you were after, you would be better off going somewhere else.
But if you wanted a glorious garden, superbly laid out, planted with colour, form and texture, with plenty of varied plant interest and top-quality maintenance, then it was time to shrug off that fixation with Rhododendrons and rejoice in what we had to offer. Which was truly worth a look.
We continued the Rhododendron theme with new plantings down the drive to the entrance, and they did quite well, it must be said. I was willing to concede space to them in the interest of tradition and enhancing that dark, mysterious approach to the main garden. For me, it felt almost as if the Rhododendrons were something ominous which needed to be negotiated before earning the right to the banquet we had to offer. There lies the germ of an idea in that, which found ts way into my theories gradually. Sharp-witted types will mark this point and await a later post to see what I was on about.
Hard to call it dark, when it was so colourful, I suppose, but Rhododendrons have a short season before degenerating into dullness. Let's make the most of it here -
The same plants from the other direction seemed to focus themselves better. Or perhaps my excitement had died down by this time -
I'm not going to let this drag on for another day, but I will put up one further photograph as an example of how we were also increasing the range of plants within the context of this anomalous part of the garden. I reckoned a Magnolia garden should have plenty of Magnolias in it. This one had M. soulangeana, M.stellata, and a M. wilsonii, with its downward pointing flowers of considerable beauty. I added in the enormous-leaved M. tripetala, which, sadly, I never saw flower, and the upward-facing M. watsonii, which flowered very young. Here you go, see you next time -
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