I dragged Best Beloved along (Do I know Hidcote? Lots of clipped greens, you love it!) and talked some reluctant relatives into visiting it too (What’s so special about Hidcote? It’s one of the most important 20th century English gardens!). And of course they all thought it was wonderful.
I’m a little out of practice, garden visiting. Time – or rather lack of it – is the reason I give but in fact there’s something else. Ennui. I’m bored with too many gardens that are simply, well, boringly nice. I have lost the expectation and excitement of discovery. Beautifully planted or wonderfully maintained, over designed or sparsely planted - it’s all garden rooms and colour themed beds. Everyone is expert enough but not necessarily creative in the process.
When asked by some clients what great thing I think they should do with their garden I have even found myself saying, on more than one occasion, “Well, I rather like it how it is! It’s a real garden”. An informal mix of trees and grass, perennials and shrubs. Talking myself out of a job – am I mad? Possibly, but the fact is I think needed to experience a stimulating garden again that works. Fortunately, visiting Hidcote once more has re-kindled some of my former enthusiasm. This is a grand garden without being Grand. Here the walls are living hedges and not balustraded walls. Hedged enclosures are planted to give shelter not simply as fashion. Pathways are often grass, evergreens are there to give structure. The borders are richly planted – the red borders particulary stunning at the moment – and tall leggy plants imaginatively under-planted.
There are long vistas leading to impressive views or structures, and there is formality, but these formal features are tempered with Johnstone’s creative choice of planting. Hedges are clipped but not always in yew or box; often they are hornbeam or holly, lime or copper beech, sometimes a combination which gives a more informal tapestry effect. And quite often openings in them are extremely narrow, surprising the visitor leaving a wide axis and finding himself in a modest and intimate enclosure. Detours favour orchards or small shady woodland ways. And always it is the natural landscape that informs his design. That third essential garden ingredient (after grass and trees), water, is slotted effortlessly into the landscape.
Where the ground is flat, formality (with a small ‘f’) and geometry reigns with straight lines or a perfectly circular pond. Where land falls away there are natural flowing lines with informal planting alongside naturalistic streams and winding woodland paths. And as these lead onto the wider landscape a feeling of unity is achieved, essential in a country garden. It is a joy. After Hidcote, the garden at Chastleton House was a complete change. The house is a treasure – more of that another time – and the garden is simple. Refreshingly, it has not been fashioned into a recreation of a Tudor or later one, but left at it was when the property was acquired by the National Trust.
As such, it definitely falls into my “I rather like it the way it is” bracket. Enough of the bones are there to see where it began, but it has settled gracefully into its setting. One can imagine an English family in the 18th century using this country garden in much the same way a family of today would do. And perhaps that is the nub of it - gardens like Hidcote are for looking at and gardens like Chastleton are for using. In our own gardens - if not done well - the first can be stilted but the second can be too scruffy for some. A great deal of creativity is needed to combine the two. And I’m glad to say that these garden visits have enthused me enough to get out in my own, dig out my wellies and practice a little of what I preach.
Lucy
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