I will admit that I felt a sense of relief to wake this morning to the sound of rain. Experience has taught me that it means a slow start to the morning and that takes a bit of pressure off us all. It was forecast to clear later in the day and it did so that was fine.

It is a busy garden festival. Not on a par with what we refer to as the Covid festival in 2020 – that period of time when the rest of the world was in the worst grip of the pandemic but we were gloriously Covid-free in these islands of ours with no restrictions, bar a closed border. So many people were clearly suffering from cabin fever that they grabbed the opportunity to travel internally. That was also the year we reopened after being closed for seven years and the crowds came.

So not quite in that league in 2022 but we are not far off it. Clearly the message has been received that this is our last festival and we are closing to the general public as of this Sunday at 5pm. Lots of lovely people who have really enjoyed the garden – and lots of vehicles to be managed.

Car parking, like clean toilets, is one of those back room logistical issues that we spend a lot of time and effort managing but that is rarely noticed. Yesterday’s brief triumph by Zach was only commented on by one visitor but amused us all greatly. For one beautiful moment in time, he had the car parking area colour toned – the blues grouped together, the whites in a row, the silvers across under the trees. True, there was one blue car in the wrong place and those of us with OCD tendencies wondered if we could locate the driver to move that car to the blue section. But then somebody left and red cars started arriving. The moment was over.

I was doubly amused when told that our friend who helps with the parking over the weekends had been attempting to get the front row alternating black and white vehicles but had not managed that feat on the day.

Rain caused us great anxiety on Sunday because the concert in the garden by La Mer was weather dependent. We had to make a call by 11am when the rain was still falling, albeit forecast to clear. We decided to take the risk and, miraculously, the rain stopped shortly after, any surface water drained quickly and it was full steam ahead. The carpark was controlled chaos and we had to stop latecomers at the gate to get them to park on the road, something we try hard to avoid on our narrow rural road. The contrast between the busy entrance and the calmness just through the courtyard behind the wall was magical as the strains of music wafted across the front lawn and through the house gardens. It was everything I hoped for in terms of ambience and a delightful experience.  

True, the window of fine weather didn’t last but we had 80 minutes of music, coffee, cake and savoury platters in pleasant, calm and warm conditions before the heavy rain returned. People may have been a tad damp as they left, but at least the spell in the middle had its own magic.

A coach tour came in yesterday and large groups can come and go in something of a blur but one participant stood out. A gentleman clad in black told me he was not a gardener, he was an artist; he liked to view gardens as pictures. When he returned from his walk, the coach was waiting for him so the conversation was brief but he assured us we are true artistes. Vanitas was mentioned but Jennifer, our artist in residence, gently suggested that perhaps it was more memento mori – a reminder of our mortality and the transience of life. He mentioned one particular view that he adored – our ‘large pond’ framed so perfectly and the end point punctuated by – wait for it – a stone sacrificial altar.

The mention of the large pond had me mentally picturing down in the park meadow where we have large ponds but for the life of me I could not think what constituted a sacrificial altar in that area. Further questioning ascertained that he was talking about the sunken garden and the altar was in fact the large stone millwheel that Mark’s parents repurposed as a garden table with stone benches to sit on.

I may never look at the millwheel with the same eyes again. We are rather too down to earth to regard ourselves as true artistes here but at least he found plenty of rewarding pictures in our garden so we can’t be too bad on our proportions and definition.

I must pay tribute to the small team who back us up this week. Lloyd and Zach are a tower of strength and able to handle problems both large and small. And we are blessed to have good friends who come and help us, too. We simply couldn’t do it without them.  

The Centuria Taranaki Garden Festival finishes for 2022 this coming Sunday. It will continue next year but without us. We will be bowing out on Sunday. Three days left.