Snowdrops at Rode Hall Gardens

I had one of the most enjoyable days out I’ve had in a long time when I visited Rode Hall for their annual Snowdrop Festival.

I knew very little about Rode Hall and went quite ill-prepared. Years ago, a friend who had worked in the gardens suggested I visit, but for one reason or another I never got around to it. Now I regret not going sooner.

The snowdrops were arranged in natural drifts throughout the wild garden, and it was a pleasure to walk along the woodland paths, taking in the different varieties. Many were planted on terraces along a gentle incline, so you could appreciate their nodding heads without having to bend down.

There are over seventy different varieties of snowdrops including Lady Beatrix Stanley, Lady Elphinstone, Straffan, Magnet, S Arnott, Blonde Inge, Mrs Macnamara, Rev. Hailstone, Sickle, Woronowii and Jaquenetta.

The path sloped down past a small pond, its surface was dull in the cold Winter light. A wooden bench sat off to one side, half surrounded by snowdrops. They had pushed up through the wet soil, scattered rather than planted and everything felt so calm and still.

The path kept going, curving through thin woodland where the ground was soft and the air smelled faintly of damp leaves. Then the trees gave way to a small clearing. At the bottom of a steep slope there was a round stone pond and fountain, clearly manmade, the stones weathered and a little uneven. Higher up, set where the ground levels out, another bench looked down toward the fountain.

Sitting there I could see the whole space at once—the pond, the incline, the trees at the edges. There’s no grand view, nothing arranged for effect. Just a contained, ordinary quiet that makes it easy to stay a while and contemplate.

I spent a good hour wandering in this part of the garden, and it wasn’t just the snowdrops that drew my attention — Helleborus (Hellebores), Rhododendrons, and Daphne added colour and scent to the stroll. There is nothing pretentious about Rode Hall, it has a calm, natural feel, and walking there I felt quietly connected to the place and eager to see more.

Later, I learned that in 1790 the owner of the hall, Richard Wilbraham Bootle, commissioned a red book from the landscape gardener Humphry Repton — a reminder that this garden has been thoughtfully shaped for centuries.

I wandered back from the wild garden toward the house, terrace and the rose garden which were laid out in much more formal lines. At the time, I didn’t know who had shaped them. I only felt the shift — from looseness to order, from wild to intent.

Later I learned the Rose Garden was commissioned from William Andrews Nesfield, one of the most sought-after landscape architects of the mid-Victorian era, a man whose work reached from Castle Howard to Regent's Park and across many of England’s great estates. Knowing that changed my thoughts and perception of the place. What had seemed simply composed was, in fact, deliberate and part of a larger vision.

I discovered this only after my visit. And once I understood that so many of Nesfield’s designs have been lost altogether, I knew I would have to return to Rode Hall perhaps in the Summer, when the garden would be in full bloom so that i could see the effects of the formal design filled in with planting.

February isn’t the best time to see a rose garden. Everything was bare, the canes cut back, the beds dark and open. But that made the structure clear — the paths, the edges, the way the beds hold their shape. I could notice it all in a way you wouldn’t when the roses are in bloom.

At the centre of the rose garden stood a statue, set perfectly in line with the terrace steps that lead up to the hall. The line carried my eye past her, out across the garden, and all the way to the lake beyond.

She was a wood nymph, and she faced away from the house, toward the woodland and the wild garden where she truly belonged . In winter, with the roses gone, she isn’t just decoration. She anchors the space, giving shape and purpose to both the formal garden and the untamed ground beyond.

This stunning statue was commissioned by the present owner of Rode Hall from the great nephew of Clough William Ellis, the creator of Portmerion in Wales. I had only seen two parts of the garden, yet already there was a clear thread connecting it to significant designers of the past - Repton, Ellis, Nesfield. Every element carried a story, a lineage, a deliberate hand shaping it and I had only just touched the surface. Rode Hall garden really is remarkable.

I walked up the steps to the terrace and around the house toward the walled kitchen garden. Even here, the design was clear — everything aligned, each focal point deliberately placed, whether within the garden or stretching out into the landscape beyond.

Along the steps, terracotta pots held dark crimson Helleborus (hellebores) and white Galanthus (snowdrop)s. Simple, restrained, yet striking. I made a note to try the same idea with my own pots at home.

For me, even in February, the Walled Kitchen Garden was the jewel in Rode Hall’s crown. Tucked away to the side of the house, this two-acre garden is one of the most beautiful walled gardens I have ever seen. Perhaps it is because it feels so unspoilt, with the gardener’s cottage built right into the garden and walls, looking out across the space it cares for. It is a breath taking place and totally unspoilt unlike many other walled gardens that still exist today.

I discovered that over the years, the kitchen garden had fallen into neglect, but careful restoration has returned it without spoiling its character. It’s divided into four sections, growing fruit, vegetables, and flowers, each area clearly defined and very well ordered.

February isn’t the ideal time to see a kitchen garden, but the layout and structure were easy to see. The espaliered apple and pear trees caught my eye, their bare branches forming precise, elegant patterns along the pathways of the garden and in a small orchard area.

I noted down two pear varieties, planning to try growing them as espaliers on my own allotment, inspired by the simplicity and care of this garden. I chose Doyenne du Comice a late season pear that originated in France around 1840 as well Conference that dates back to 1885 and is often said to be the definitive British pear.

The head gardener, lives in the gardener's cottage and I discovered that he is an accomplished grower, having won several competitions for his gooseberries, even earning the title of World Champion. Recently, I came across a method of growing gooseberries on a single-stem cordon, rather than the traditional bush. It caught my attention, and I made a mental note to give it a try myself, perhaps with the Montrose variety, as grown at Rode Hall especially for competition.

Rode Hall, is a Grade II listed park and garden and is one of the most unspoilt and enchanting gardens that I have visited. On my snowdrop visit, I only glimpsed a fraction of the garden, missing the grotto, the pool, the Italian garden, and the herbaceous borders. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d barely scratched the surface. It’s one of those rare gardens that stays with you, and I’m already looking forward to returning in the summer.

Garden Writer | Guineveres Garden