Quite by chance, in the process of other works, I discovered that I could produce an effect which was new to the garden, but very much within its spirit, and certainly one of the most effective beckoning features of the site as a whole.
When changing the turf in the Magnolia Garden for a bark surface, I was struck by a need to delineate the change of surface on aesthetic grounds. It would look weird to go straight from green to brown without suggesting a reason, so I decided to formalise the entrance to this area of the garden by creating an arch at the seam between the two surfaces. This I did from existing Yew trees. Now all that would have been unspectacular, had it not been for a fortunate trick of the light combined with some of the pruning that we had undertaken for different reasons. It would now be necessary to continue with that pruning in perpetuity, in order to make the best of this feature.
Early in my time at the property, this sculpture had not particularly engaged me. It was just placed there in the shade, shrouded in foliage, a bit lost at times -
It was a shady woodland path in essence, and the statue was lost amongst dark evergreen Camellias, with a too large Magnolia regularly throwing branches out in front of it. To make it visible at all from any distance required rigorous regular pruning of the tree, and the whole thing almost seemed a chore. In the spring, before the leaves came out, on a sunny day, if you were lucky, then it stood out better, but there were many other features in the garden which struck me more -
That feeling of relative indifference didn't end with the creation of the new surfaces for the path, as the best visibility depended on the position of the sun. In fact, at times, the statue remained lost in its surroundings -
But after lunch in the summer, when our visitors were allowed through the gate, that's when it came into its own -
When the light came over the top of the arch, and the pruning we had done behind released it to highlight the sculpture through the dark entrance, that was a sight to behold. That is worth maintaining. Don't you feel like you want to go and find out what's down there? Even if it turns out to be only a few ropey old Rhodies and Camellias? Oh, and some beautiful Magnolias, Zenobias, Cornus, Kalmias, Eucryphia.....
There is one last 18th century-style feature I would like to show you. I think it surpasses all the more straightforward models. We had a ha-ha. We had two, actually. With reference to Pope, the Old Man had been at pains to 'conceal the bounds' of his garden at all exit points around the park. So we had cattle-grids and ha-has, keeping the livestock out, but allowing unimpeded views and access on all sides. Our south-facing ha-ha was an interesting shape, having a semi-circular bulge in the centre, and this typifies the generosity of the Old Man's design. At no point do you feel the marked sense of enclosure that you might experience in parts of the more famous earlier gardens of the 20th century, such as Hidcote or Sissinghurst. This garden was open and welcoming from any angle you looked at it. Unless you were trying to get past me through the back gate without paying. The semi-circular ha-ha was just part of this. It encouraged you to look at the view in all directions. It was expansive. It was open. It was marvellous. There was just one slight problem. It was quite shallow, and the cattle tended to walk the mud into the dip and build it up against the wall. Hence the need for barbed wire. If they got in a huddle, they could bunch each other up into the garden by sheer strength. Obviously that would be disadvantageous.
But what was the 18th century doing in a 20th century garden? More to come.
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