Good bones help but the contrast of plants and the simplicity of the daisies would work even without the hall in the background.
We have been talking about romantic gardens here. Not that commercially packaged ‘romantic’ imagery of twilight, candles, a bottle of wine and two glasses. No, we are looking back to the European Romantic period from the late 18th century onwards blended with what is often called naturalistic and gardenesque styles of gardening, but in the 21st century.
The gentle, at times sentimental soft focus of ‘The Secret Garden’ by Frances Hodgson Burnett has stayed with many of us all our lives. It was something of an anticlimax to me when I finally discovered that the history of those walled gardens in Britain has rather more to do with growing fruit and vegetables than roses. So too have I never forgotten the image of Elnora Comstock in ‘A Girl of the Limberlost’ though I admit I mentally had her in an arbour, not beneath a willow tree*.
Gresgarth offered many small pictures of subtle detail.
How does this translate to gardening? Forget the twee, the naff, the contrived sentimentality. That is romantic gardening in the hands of the wannabe. It started to fall into place for us when we visited Arabella Lennox Boyd’s garden called Gresgarth in Lancashire, north west England. The pictures today tell the story. It was wildly romantic though not, I would guess as a deliberate contrivance. Lady Lennox Boyd is renowned as both a highly skilled garden designer and a plantswoman. This is her private garden and a reflection of her personal tastes. Unfortunately she was away the day we visited. We would have liked to have met her because we loved her garden.
It was not a show garden designed to impress. We have seen enough of those to pick them instantly. This was a garden with soul, underpinned by a very deft hand and eye. There were many detailed little pictures as well as the grand views, a marriage of formality and informality with areas of gentle abandon. It was a garden which served multiple purposes including supplying the house with produce and replenishing the soul. It wasn’t perfect. There were a few areas which were certainly not above criticism. In short, it was a garden to be lived in.
It wasn’t until later that we came to the conclusion that the best descriptor was “romantic”. This was despite the coach load of visitors and others who were there at the same time. I can tell you that garden coach loads do not vary a great deal whether they are in New Zealand or overseas. There is a certain herd tendency to tour groups. But even their intrusive presence did not detract from our enjoyment.
I think it was the gardener’s cottage in days gone by, located in the walled garden.
Gresgarth gave us a reference point as a romantic garden. Even if the handsome residence and the old stone and brickwork were stripped out, it would still retain that sense of romance because it lay in the garden, not primarily in the wider architectural or landscape context. Though it certainly makes life easier if you start with some good bones, as they say.
Romantic gardening is pretty much at the far end of the spectrum from hard-edged contemporary garden design with shiny stainless steel, matt black and sharp white structures and plants selected solely as soft furnishings. It is also well away from austere, classically derived formality although it may have some formal elements.
It wasn’t all pastel and white at Gresgarth.
What else defines it other than that distinctly nebulous and subjective description of having ‘soul’? We are still unravelling this here but romantic gardening brings together a number of threads we have been discussing in recent years – sustainability, support for natural ecosystems, better environmental practices in gardening, a respect for nature which involves a cooperative relationship, some level of prettiness, often a celebration of simplicity rather than grandeur. None of this is a surprise when you consider that the Romantic era originated as a reaction against the Industrial Revolution and the elevation of science and reason above nature.
Maybe it is time for Neo-Romanticism or maybe the Romantic Revival as a response to the elevation of economics and self interest above nature and community? Only time will tell.
* “One afternoon early in July, Ammon came across the fields. He inquired for Elnora at the back door and was told she was reading under the willow. He went around the west end of the cabin to her. She sat on a rustic bench they had made and placed beneath a drooping branch. Ammon had not seen her before in the dress she was wearing. It was clinging mull of pale green trimmed with narrow ruffles and touched with knots of black velvet; a simple dress but vastly becoming.”
A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton Porter (1909)
First published in the Waikato Times and reprinted here with their permission.
Look! The red cubes are evergreen azaleas. We were driving along and I made Mark stop the car so I could photograph this border from the street because it was eye catching. The azaleas appear to be all the same variety. Each rhododendron in between is a different variety. We decided that what lifted this border above the usual alternating planting – which I have been known to refer as the vaudeville or circus tent look – is the fact that it utilises formality without slavishly trying to make all the plants look identical. Each red cube is actually a different size.
The floating or suspended steps with no visible support structure are a common feature in modern interior architecture where a lighter look is desirable. I can’t recall seeing them used in a garden before and, to be honest, I am not sure they add a great deal to this particular scene. But I did photograph it in a place with a large budget where the owners and designer could clearly afford such attention to detail.
These are the classic steps which are attributed to the great architect Edwin Lutyens during the time of the Arts and Crafts movement at the turn of last century. A central circle has inwardly curved steps on the upper side and outwardly curved steps leading downwards. Good design does not date. Good construction also lasts the distance.
These steps have the outward curve only, but I chose them because they are an example of dry climate steps. The narrow strips on the treads are actually terracotta tiles placed on their sides. The look is detailed and attractive although I imagine it would be expensive to do here Both clay brick and terracotta will become moss-covered and very slippery in damper climates like ours. Note the care and precision in construction.
Not every set of steps is going to be a precisely engineered work. These were clearly DIY, although access to flat slabs of stone for the treads gives the impression of permanent quality. Look at the risers – some are local round stones held together with cement. In the absence of suitable stone slabs, check out the modern concrete pavers on offer. These can be cut to size and the finish can be good enough to deceive most eyes.
No matter what material you choose to construct your steps, there are well established guidelines for measurements. For comfort, the gradient is less than internal house stairs. Step risers should not be more than 15cm high and the corresponding step tread around 30cm from front to back. There is plenty of information on proportions that work best. Generously wide steps usually look more gracious than tight, narrow steps where space allows.
Tikorangi The Jury Garden 