A Garden for Pablo: High Days and Holidays

Saturday, 4 June 2016

High Days and Holidays

A1liums in George Smith's garden

This is but a a small part of the border in flower arranger extraordinaire George Smith's garden last summer. The garden is a floral delight and is immaculate both in design and attention to detail - a perfect example of how an eminent floral artist plans his garden to accommodate his passion for flowers.

More alliums - this time at Newby Hall on my birthday visit there last June

I'm very fond of the flower and planted lots of Purple Sensation in Pablo's garden last year. As I write they are just beginning to show in the borders but have yet to unfurl and reveal their stunning lollipop heads.

Time for tea at Bradley Walled Garden

This charming table, set with teacups full of flowers, was a delightful addition to this Victorian walled garden situated not far from Prudhoe.

New owners have done little alter the layout of the garden. The borders are full of colouful plants that mirror those for sale. In addition to tasteful garden sundries, Bradley Walled Garden boasts a fine restaurant - booking ahead is to be recommended as its reputation grows.

Stunning display of foxgloves at Harrogate Show in 2015

Nearer home - gunnera at Durham University's Botanic Gardens

3 comments:

Unknown15 July 2016 at 03:17
Great Article.. Inspired! You Gonna Love This
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Linda28 July 2016 at 06:52
Beautiful photos. You have a lovely blog. :)
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Garden Lore

Who will take care of this garden, who will nurture it?

I will, said January.

I will anchor it to the earth with snowdrops.

I will give it my stone, the garnet.

It is mine, said February.

I will feed it the memory of all that grows.

I will welcome it with amethyst and primrose.

I will coax it with bloodstone and daffodil, said March.

Like a boxer battered by winter

I will lift myself from the frosty canvas of the earth to welcome it.

With diamond and daisy I will seduce it.

I will soak it in shower after shower, said April.

In the yawny earth its seeds will riot.

I will make it dizzy with emeralds

And the fumes of the hawthorn, said May.

It will know of nothing but play.

And I will adorn it with a necklace

Of honeysuckle and ruby, said June.

It will dance to my languid tune.

I will contain it, said July.

I will handcuff it with briar and chrysolite,

Drug it with the scent of roses.

August spoke from the garden’s stillness.

I will weep layer upon layer of sardonyx.

I will teach it the brevity of poppies.

When its bones begin to creak

I will cure it with aster and opal,

promised September.

I will guide it towards sleep with the cold light of sapphires;

For its lullaby I will provide the swan song of dahlias,

said October.

Under the weight of dead chrysanthemums I will bury it,

said November. I will give it a headstone of topaz,

a rosary of berries.

And I will guard its sleep, said December.

On a pillow of moonstone

It will dream of holly and the coming snowdrop.

Brian Patten