It has been a somewhat difficult start to a new year here, both at a personal level and in the wider context of global events. This is why I have been silent since Christmas but, with an unprecedented upsurge in subscribers (waving hello to new subscribers), I felt I needed to break the silence.
When I find myself in times of trouble, it is not Mother Mary who comes to me as she apparently inspired John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Rather, it is the garden that wraps around my day. Always, as I reach the reflective time at the end of the day, when Mark’s and my ritual is to sit together and have a drink (sometimes alcoholic and sometimes just homeopathic gins – lime and soda in a glass with just the memory of actual gin), I think how lucky I am in life to have washed up living in such a special environment.
We don’t often open the garden these days but I had booked two summer tours from overseas. One cancelled a couple of months ago (presumably advance sales were too slow) so that left one for this weekend. It has dominated my days since just before Christmas. Everything I did in the garden was driven by the deadline of having the place spruce and ready for this weekend. I will delay cutting those back until after, I would think, rather than making a gap. The Aurelian lilies will be at their peak, I thought while I hoped some of the auratums would also be open. When Lloyd and Zach returned to work last Monday after the Christmas break, it was action stations. The pressure was on. We are an experienced and well-oiled machine on this but it is quite a lot of extra work and a different focus to our usual days.
Morning tea was required and I arranged extra help from a friend and planned to spend Friday baking. If you have ever been here to one of these situations you will recognise my menu because I keep to the tried and true – Annabel’s (Langbein) Orange Lightning Cake, Lemon Yoghurt Cake and Edmond’s hokey pokey biscuits with added oats or walnuts. My fail-safe recipes.
Not having heard from the NZ company that was managing logistics for the tour since early December, I started asking on Monday for final numbers and arrival and departure times. And on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I phoned them and they said they would get back to me. A few hours later, they did get back by email – to cancel. Apparently, they can no longer fit us in to their itinerary.
It was discombobulating. Zach felt the same as priorities suddenly changed and the pressure was removed. At first I was angry at the unacceptably short notice and cavalier attitude. Now I am resigned to the fact that it is just ignorance. It is a company that doesn’t know us and has no idea what our set-up is here where we only open on request for specialist tours. They probably thought it was the same as cancelling a café lunch or a visit to a public garden.
I am also relieved. I hadn’t been enjoying the lead-up and feeling the pressure to showcase our garden at its best and I had been thinking that I may decline all future bookings for summer tours. That decided it; I WILL be declining all summer tours in the future. We are not that desperate. We only accept these tour bookings because we think they might have some interesting people on them and the actual visit is enjoyable as we take them around the garden and then host them over morning or afternoon tea. Despite the pressures of preparation, the visits are leisured, pleasant and affirming for us – a good experience for all parties.
So here we are. The pressure is off. The sun is shining. The pool is warming up nicely and I can spend time floating on my lilo and dipping in the water. The Aurelian lilies are indeed at their peak and the first auratum lilies are opening. The garden is looking lovely as we head into peak summer. And I am now doing the garden tasks that I want, rather than those I felt I had to.
It may be that the tour company, who shall remain unnamed, will learn in time that the holy grail of garden tours is personalised experiences and getting into gardens that are not normally open to casual garden visitors. Australian designer, writer and tour leader, Michael McCoy knows this. “This morning we’re heading to Dan Pearson’s own garden Hillside for a wander with Dan himself, who will talk us through how his own garden fuels and inspires his design work. What a treat!”
UK-based garden tour specialists, Brightwater Holidays, know this. “After breakfast today we visit the private garden of Clos du Peyronnet, Our access to this private garden is a Brightwater exclusive, and a real highlight of our tour.” This is from their tour of gardens of the French Riviera that we were hoping to join in May before circumstances conspired against that plan.
Some of our own special memories are of gardens we gained access to that do not open to the public – a private commission of Dan Pearson’s in the Cotswolds , Mount St John in Yorkshire (owned by a grocery magnate, I believe) where leading designer Tom Stuart-Smith has created a sublime terrace with a borrowed vista into seeming eternity, being hosted to morning coffee by the owner of Bury Court near Farnham when the gate was very firmly closed to general garden visitors, being accorded the privilege of wandering alone at our own, slow pace through Ninfa in Italy, a champagne and canape reception for our group only, hosted by the Principe and Principessa Borromeo on Isola Bella – these experiences are on a different level to following the tried and true garden destinations that anybody and everybody can get into.
While twenty-five Canadians have missed their only chance of ever getting to see our garden, I feel I have taken it back. You will find me out digging mondo grass. I am thinking my way into an article on ‘when good plants go feral’.
Abbie