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This beautiful book has been written by Victoria Martin who, together with her husband Barney runs Stokesay Flowers in South Shropshire. Victoria and Barney have two walled gardens which are devoted almost entirely to cut flower growing, mainly for florists in London and the Cotswolds. The original garden where they've been established and growing flowers since 2012, is Stokesay Court and the second garden, which they took on more recently is called Downton Hall. In both of these beautiful gardens flowers are grown by Victoria and Barney in the loose, abundant manner of an old fashioned cottage garden. There is no sense of hurry or commercial set up, but instead Victoria has focused on seasonality, patience, and an almost defiant commitment to beauty over convenience. Visiting Stokesay, as I did last year, was a surreal experience. As you step beyond the large wooden gate set into the walls, time quickly loosens its grip on you. The garden reveals itself gradually, feeling slightly wild but deeply intentional and instead of a commercial flower farming operation, Stokesay is more like a real life secret garden that has been shaped by care rather than production. Whist wandering through this stunning walled garden, it's difficult to remember that this is a working, highly successful business, supplying an exacting market that demands both quality and consistency. That duality, between the romance of the setting and the discipline required to sustain it, is what makes Stokesay Flowers so remarkable and so nicely sets it apart. I have visited other flower farms, places that stretch on in long rows of polytunnels and precision planting, efficient and controlled, where the emphasis is squarely on output and production. They function well, but they carry little sense of place, and less of beauty. Set against them, Stokesay feels like something altogether unique, an enterprise that has purpose, heart and soul. In "Flowers in a Hurry" which is Victoria's second book, she writes with a clear and practical passion, for growing beautiful English garden flowers, and for passing that knowledge on to others. The book is, at its heart, an encouragement and invitation for others to try, without being intimidated by the scale or skill they imagine is required. Victoria is careful to lower that barrier. Rather than urging grand designs, she advises starting small, choosing a flower that will grow quickly and bloom within a year. It is a simple strategy, but a deliberate one, designed to offer early success, and with it, the confidence and quiet pleasure that so often determine whether someone continues or gives up altogether. The book moves through a wide variety of flowers, all of them grown by Victoria at Stokesay, but it never overwhelms. Instead, Victoria encourages the reader to choose a flower that catches the eye within the pages of her book, and to begin there. It is a measured approach, grounded in experience rather than ambition that concentrates on taking things just one step at a time. Victoria's guidance is gathered in a separate chapter, simply titled “Some Tips,” where she sets out the practical knowledge she has built over many years. Victoria’s tips are deceptively simple, emphasising the quiet, almost unnoticed work of tending to your soil, the careful spacing of plants, and the necessary discipline of staking flowers to keep them upright. There’s no overwhelming depth to her instructions, just clear, grounded advice. And in that simplicity, there’s a quiet confidence that makes you believe this is not just possible, but something you really can do. It’s a testament to the power of focusing on the essentials and trusting that they will lead to good results. "Some Tips" is quickly followed by a section on "Cutting" where Victoria addresses the cutting of the flowers you have grown, when to do it, and how to store them afterward. Her instructions are brief, but they set out the essentials with no room for confusion. It’s a quick detour, just enough to get you on the right path before she dives into the heart of the book, the flowers you can grow in a hurry. Next come several chapters, each dedicated to a specific flower including bulbs, sweet peas, hardy annuals, dahlias, chrysanthemums. Each chapter begins with a brief introduction to the flower, just one or two pages, followed by several pages of suggestions on the many different varieties that work well. Each plant variety is given a double-page in the book including a description, Victoria’s notes, and a stunning image of the flower. These are all tried and tested plants that Victoria knows intimately, having grown them herself at Stokesay. With so many options, and the combination of beautiful images and thoughtful commentary, it’s easy to decide which ones you’d want to try. After reading the book, you feel confident enough to pick up a seed catalogue, knowing exactly what to look for. You’re not just making a random choice, but selecting plants with a real chance of success. To make absolutely sure, and to reinforce everything you have read, there’s a final section to the book where Victoria lays out the months of the year, showing when to plant or sow for flowers in each specific month. Each entry is cross-referenced back to the relevant pages of the book, making it all incredibly easy to follow and try yourself. To sum up, this book is not just a guide to growing beautiful flowers, it is an invitation to reconnect with the rhythms of nature and the joy of gardening. Victoria Martin’s approach is rooted in practicality, but it also carries a sense of timeless beauty, as if she’s inviting you into her own secret garden at Stokesay and following along. Through clear, thoughtful advice and a deep knowledge born from years of hands on experience, she makes the art of growing flowers feel both achievable and rewarding. Whether you’re a novice or an experienced gardener, her book offers not just instructions, but inspiration, showing that, with patience and care, anyone can cultivate beauty in their own garden. Garden Writer | Guineveres Garden

Sometimes, when you least expect it, you stumble upon a hidden treasure. Discovering this stunning walled garden created by Tom Stuart-Smith was one of those rare and unforgettable "treasured " moments for me. This very private walled garden is particularly distinctive, with its central reflective pool, cloud-pruned hornbeams, and prairie-style perennials and grasses. The beautiful gate feature above comprises a leaf design, reminiscent of William Morris style patterns and looked stunning at the time of my visit against the Wisteria that framed it perfectly. Most gates draw you through to the space beyond but this one was so beautiful that I paused, torn between stepping through or staying to admire it just a little longer. Beneath the hornbeam, the borders were planted with a mix of ornamental grasses, tulips and alliums in vivid, jewel-like colours. The planting combined movement and structure, with the grasses providing a soft backdrop for the seasonal bulbs. Pathways run through this area, and rounded planters are positioned at intervals to create focal points and add visual interest along the route. The hornbeams are spectacular and a credit to whoever is responsible for pruning and keeping them in shape. The reflective pool is a central feature of the walled garden, running the entire length of the space. With no plants to disrupt its surface when I visited, it created a smooth, mirror-like reflection of the surrounding landscape. This clean, simple design helped enhance the garden's peaceful and tranquil atmosphere. In fact I began to feel something very special about this garden, it had a quiet atmosphere that made me feel instantly at ease and gently enveloped in its calm. During my visit, the pool had a dark, deep colour, and provided a focal point that felt solid, static and unchanging amid the dynamics of the garden around it. While the surrounding landscape will evolve with the seasons, the pool will remain as a constant acting like a large mirror reflecting the garden and expanding the space visually. The walled garden is part of a much larger landscape, with trees playing a key role in connecting the two. The hornbeams within the garden are tall, linking the garden to its surroundings and the estate beyond, but are also carefully pruned, giving them a cultivated, garden like appearance. Inside the garden, smaller trees are arranged thoughtfully, adding a range of colours, brown, rust, and red, while their smaller size ensures a cohesive look that ties the space together. This clever placement of trees made me completely forget that there were boundaries and walls to this garden. Outside the walled garden is a smaller, working garden used mainly for cutting and edibles. When I visited, it was full of tulips in a wide mix of colours, planted closely together and grown for use as well as display. There was a simple, practical feel to the space. The owner likes to bring flowers into the house and arrange them regularly, and this garden helps to do just that, providing a steady source of fresh stems throughout the season. Situated beyond the cutting garden and close to the house sits a beautiful greenhouse with plenty of storage, making it easy to arrange flowers and move plants under cover when needed. It sits naturally between the two spaces and is clearly set up for everyday use. This area is simple and functional, but there is still some thought given to how it looks. Even the shelves are arranged with both practicality and aesthetics in mind, adding a bit of order and quiet interest with I'm certain, an ever changing display. The owner keeps careful records of the plant varieties she grows, particularly in the cutting garden, where she experiments and tries new combinations each year. It works well that this garden is separate from the main walled garden. The walled garden is more formal and structured, following the clear Tom Stuart-Smith design, while the cutting garden feels more personal and relaxed. It is a space where the owner can be creative, arranging plants and flowers according to her own taste and ideas, making it a reflection of her own unique style. I had a wonderful day visiting this stunning garden and I hope to return again one day. Garden Writer | Guineveres Garden

Hill Close Gardens are without doubt one of the most fascinating gardens I have ever visited. Steeped in history, nearly lost forever and not at all well known - these gardens are absolutely charming and a treat to see. Hill Close is a series of almost secret gardens, originally covering an area of five acres sandwiched between the ancient medieval walled town of Warwick and its racecourse. Mr Wilson inherited the site in the 1840s and seeing the need for detached gardens which were once very common, he set about splitting the plot into a series of 32 gardens each with it's own hedgerow and lockable door. These private gardens were perfect for those living in the town where most business and other premises only had a small yard alongside their business or house. Hill Close gardens, like now, were an escape from everyday life and somewhere to relax in a private space. People would use these detached gardens to grow fruit, flowers and vegetables or to just relax and enjoy some peace and quiet. In the 1860s the whole site was sold to Mr Phillips who went on to sell the plots individually and this probably saved them from development in future years. Plots were passed down in the same family for generations but by the end of the Nineteenth Century there was demand for housing and some of the plots, at the outer edges of the site, had been sold and built on. Between 1900 and 1910 half the orginal site had been developed and the Council began to buy plots as they became available. It took forty years, but eventually the Council owned the whole site. Permission was given for housing development and in 1993 bulldozers moved in. Luckily a group of local residents realised how special the site was - not only the land, but also the derelict summerhouses which previous owners had built in many different styles. The residents grouped together to try and save the gardens from development and stop the bulldozers. The heritage value of the gardens was recognised and a Trust was set up to secure the future of the gardens and to restore them. The Summerhouses and the Gardens are now Grade II Listed - recognised as being historically important, and protected, for future generations to come. Work started to restore the gardens in earnest, with the support of the Heritage Lottery Fund. The gardens were then opened to the public so that everyone can now enjoy and appreciate the social and gardening history of this very unique site. The Trust has recreated plots as close to possible to their original layout and planting. Each plot has a number and plaque which gives a brief history behind who gardened there. It's fascinating to read the stories of people who were gardening at Hill Close many years ago and discover what influenced them, what their family and business life was like, and how this may have impacted on their own garden plot. The gardens were used for pleasure as well as production and would have comprised lawns, ornamental beds, fruit, vegetables, garden ponds and often a summerhouse. As you wander through the plots at Hill Close today this is what you can expect to see. It's a place of community but also somewhere for privacy and a feeling of secrecy - each garden being completley unique and hidden from its neighbours. The summerhouses were used to sit and admire the gardens but also store tools. Many had a fireplace to keep some warmth and perhaps a kettle to make drinks whilst some had stoves to cook a small meal. The site had gas supply too and so was lit after dark to extend the gardening day. Plot owners obviously had a sense of pride and enjoyment in their own personal garden and many invested money making each plot unique to them. Not only were the summerhouses quite spectacular, with brick, chimneys and ornate tiles but plot owners also invested in steps, pathways and fancy edgings to their planting beds and paths. The trust relies on a team of volunteers to help maintain the gardens. There are 80 volunteers at Hill Close altogether and just half of them are involved in the gardening. Each volunteer is usually allocated to one plot. There is a huge selection of flowers and planting combinations in the gardens which gives plenty of inspiration to take away and try in your own gardening space. As you reach the final garden there is a large Victorian style greenhouse with coldframes and I was pleased to see a selection of plants for sale. These were not "bought in plants" but cuttings, division and propagation of the actual plants growing in the gardens today. In early Autumn, when I visited, the purple Verbena bonariensis (Purpletop vervain) and Japanese anemone stood out in the border and looked striking against the left over seed heads of Alcea (Hollyhock). There were a lot of Dahlias planted throughout the gardens as well as Cosmos, Geranium and Roses. The gardens have had a huge social effect, not only in the past as you can discover by reading the plot plaques as you walk about the garden, but also in the present. These gardens are still giving daily pleasure and benefits to the volunteers who garden today. Plot number 10 is looked after by Stella Carr, a well known artist, and you can easily see the influence of her art and creativity in the way that she tends to this garden plot today. For other volunteers the gardens are a sanctuary where they can get away, connect with nature, tend to their plot and connect with others - perhaps just a chat with a visitor or fellow volunteer - social interaction that can make a huge difference to their day. It's a wonderful place which continues to give and impact on people and nature. At one time there were many more detached gardens in the UK but most were lost to development. Many of these would have fruit trees which provided fruit, beautiful blossom and a shaded place to sit. Hill Close Gardens are no different and contain over 160 trees made up of 70 varieties. The apples are ready from September time through to November each and comprise many Heritage varieties. Each year Hill Close Gardens holds an Event to celebrate these wonderful trees where you can sample the apples and find out more about the history. I noticed Wyken Pippin an apple variety dating back to the 1700s, Warwickshire Drooper plum tree which is unusual as it can be eaten and cooked as well plus Blenheim Orange apple which also dates back a long time to 1740. These are just a handful of the many varities to see at Hill Close. At the end of the gardens is the stunning greenhouse and plant sales. I treated myself to an eyecatching Symphyotrichum (Aster) which I'd seen in the borders whilst wandering through the different plots. Hill close also has over forty varieties of Chrysanthemum and holds part of the RHS National Dispersed Collection of Chrysanthemum. I thoroughly recommend a visit to Hill Close. There is so much to see and learn about the past, the present as well as the social and architectural history. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

I was lucky enough to be invited to visit The Mill Garden in Warwick on a sunny afternoon in late September. Little did I know that this garden would be one of the best examples I have ever seen of what garden designers describe as a garden with a "borrowed view", where features beyond the boundaries of a garden appear to be part of the garden itself. The borrowed view of the Mill Garden is spectacular with Warwick Castle as a backdrop on one side rising out of the garden with a huge sense of scale, and the river Avon framing the garden to the other side. The lawn slopes gently toward the river taking in a picture perfect view of the old abandoned bridge which used to carry the road from Warwick to London. The house itself was originally the bridge keepers cottage and has a history going back hundreds of years. The house and garden are tucked away down a small cobbled street lined with historic houses each of which has its own distinct character and gives a sense of stepping back in time. The street curves gently and so the Mill Garden is hidden from view until you reach the very end of the houses where a quaint and unassuming pink cottage comes into view. The Cottage belongs to Julia Measures and her husband David Russell and was previously owned by Julia's father Arthur who originally rented the house before purchasing it from the Earl of Warwick in 1959. Julia has been connected with this place all her life and the story of how she met her husband David, and kept the garden she believed she may need to let go, is a fairytale in itself. Gardens are as much about the people who "garden" them as the garden itself. This garden has been a constant thread interwined throughout Julia's life so I was thrilled to meet Julia and her husband on my visit, and hear first hand, from her, some of the history of this spectacular place. As you step in to the garden the Castle backdrop is breathtaking with it's turreted tower and huge expanse of grey stone wall running along the length of the garden. The dull grey of the Castle wall tones in perfectly with the pale pink of the Cottage, and its out-buildings, drawing the two together in a very subtle way. The entrance to the garden has a Cottage Garden feel with bird baths, benches to sit and take in the view as well as a collection of earthenware and terracotta pots displayed beautifully on an old stone bench. The planting here is very low and close to the ground comprising many alpine type plants in a subtle hue of colours including lilac, pink and white but framed by silver colour foliage. Height has been obtained by growing climbers along the walls of the outbuildings drawing the eye away from the Castle and out towards the garden beyond. Not only does this garden draw on features beyond its own boundaries, but it also has a very cleverly designed series of paths which lead you, in twists and turns, through the garden. The garden is not that big in size but by using this clever design it is revealed to you bit by bit and so appears to be a lot larger than it actually is. From the entrance to the garden and the Cottage, a path leads past the low level planting, through a lawn and down to the lower level garden. There is just a glimpse of water beyond and at first glance this seems to be a lake rather than the river itself - it's only as you walk further along the path that the whole view is revealed and you can look back to see the bridge. It is breathtaking and design at its very best. The stone path continues to weave its way and lead you around the garden making clever use of planting and shrubs to gradually reveal, hide or frame a particular view. This garden should be on every garden designers wish list and be a must have addition to garden design tuition courses. It's only small in size but packs so much in. The borrowed view doesn't stop at the river, bridge and castle - it also comprises mature trees beyond the river which frame in the view and link up with very tall trees within the garden itself which give the impression of being somewhere in the country rather than in the middle of Warwick Town. It's breath taking both visually and in terms of design. What I loved about this garden, as much as the garden itself, were the people. Julia and her husband are very unassuming but were available during my visit to ask questions, share knowledge or plants. They also share the garden not only to passing visitors but by opening for the NGS Garden Scheme and over the years they have raised a substantial amount of money for charities. They also connect with other nearby gardens and gardeners and help provide training opportunities for the WAGS garden scheme. It would be very easy to keep this beautiful oasis private and enjoy it only for themselves but instead they, like many other gardeners, share and I am sure that they get a lot of pleasure themselves from doing just that. As you wander around the garden it feels so natural but there is some very clever and subtle curation going on too. There are lots of intimate viewpoints and vistas and places where you can just stop and take in the view. The garden is scattered with nods to a time past. There are old stocks, benches, pots, garden rollers and staddle stones too. I had such an enjoyable afternoon at Julia's garden and I would recommend making the effort to visit Warwick sometime and see this beautiful garden for yourself. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

Several years ago I stumbled upon some Topiary Images in a magazine. This in turn led me to probably my all time favourite garden book - "The Gardens of Arne Maynard". After reading the book I knew that one day I had to visit the garden itself. A couple of years ago my wish became reality and I finally got to stay at and visit Allt y Bela, the private garden of the renowned designer Arne Maynard. It was quite an effort to get to Allt Y Bela as it's tucked away on the borders of Wales and accessed by a long and winding country lane which seems way off the beaten track. However, the effort was worth it. From the moment I drove my car in through the beautiful wood and iron gates I just knew this visit would be something very special and was sure to remain with me for a long time to come. I'd already managed to read several of Arne Maynard's garden books before my visit, and I'd seen most of the blog posts on his website as well as every article that I could get my hands on but none of this prepared me for the beauty of this place. Seeing really is believing and so much better than a magazine or book. The house sits perfectly within the surrounding landscape and seems nestled comfortably in to the rolling countryside around it. It is refreshingly quiet and peaceful with a strong feeling of time having stopped still. The house has been painted in an eye catching orange shade and so it stands proudly and magnificently at the centre of this scene. At the same time the property feels humble and serving the landscape itself. The house seems to be almost grounded within the setting itself. There is a small stream that flows through the valley by the house and stonework along it's banks links the steam to the property and envelops the house with a sweeping curve. The stream stone matches the buildings and this feature really punctuates and sets apart the house from the countryside beyond. It looks so simple but it is really quite sophisicated design that draws your eye and subconciously let's you see the house at peace with the landscape. When viewed from another angle the curves of the stream are replicated in a series of stone walls set into the bank beyond, almost like an amphitheatre but very simplistic with planting spill out from the stone itself and a stunning curved wild flower meadow beyond. The curves get gradually smaller with height and so seem to disappear into the hillside. There are several parts to the garden and most flow into one another although the Cottage Garden and Vegetable Garden are two seperate places. Topiary is dotted throughout and there are lots of pot displays as well as the amphitheatre and wild flower meadow. It is all curated perfectly and it is difficult to see clearly where the garden ends and the countryside begins. Use has been made of local materials which adds to the sense of the place but, at the same, time there are some quite bold statements such as sculpture that is quite magestic in style but due to the simplicity of the surroundings does not feel out of place. To me this whole garden is strictly about structure but then how that can be made to fade into the background and carry the planting and landscape that surrounds it. Care has been taken to ensure that any pots, seating and hard landscaping all "fit" with the surroundings and they have been allowed to weather beautifully, even gathering moss, so that they appear to have been around for many years. Even the Head Gardener Bertie, who kindly showed me around the garden, looked a fitting part of this amazing space ! The Cottage Garden was a profusion of every type of Cottage Garden plant you could imagine. Some towered above me and it was difficult to take everything in. There were beautiful stone pathways criss crossing through this garden so that you could explore deeper and try to discover some new and beautiful plants. I could have stayed in part of the garden for quite a long time except there was even more to see. The Vegetable and Cottage Garden were suprisingly small but that did not stop them both from packing so much in. In the Vegetable Garden everything was very ordered and most of the produce here is used for the house. Most plants were labelled and there was a feeling of having stepped back in time. There was a stunning wooden greenhouse which again was not huge in size. At the time of my visit this was packed with several different varieties of tomato plant. Again natural materials had been used whenever possible including some stunning terracotta pots. The Greenhouse is a walk from the house and so some more tender plants are kept nearby in a stunning cold frame. Attention to detail is key as the plants are staged so that those near to the back are raised up and easy to view and traditionnal terracotta pots are stored underneath. A beautifully clipped topiary sits adjacent to the frame whilst climbing plants cling to the wall besides it. In this garden even the most practical of structures look beautiful. Everything looks so natural and you would never know that this garden is a relatively recent creation. Tightly clipped topiary of Carpinus betulus (hornbeam) and Buxus (box) sit comfortably in the garden with a backdrop of more wild and free flowing trees. Even the oak seating is set at an angle to reflect the garden design - a clever but subtle detail you may not even notice unless you look closely. Nevertheless small details like this are a nod to the sophisicated design which is almost hidden in this garden. Sadly the visit came to an end all too quickly and I made sure that I had all my notes and pictures to hand before I asked Bertie, the gardener, any final questions. We were lucky that day as the weather was kind and when we had finished looking at the gardens we were able to enjoy a well appreciated cup of tea ! If you can make the trip to Allt y Bela you will not be disappointed and I really do recommend it. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

Last summer, amid the gentle hush of the Irish countryside, I was fortunate enough to spend an afternoon at Patthana Garden, a place unlike any other, where art and horticulture entwine in the most exquisite way. Invited not only to explore the garden under the guidance of its creator, TJ Maher, but also to share a quiet lunch prepared with care by his husband, Simon, I found myself immersed in a world that felt both personal and profoundly beautiful. The garden itself, intimate, layered, painterly, unfolds like a living canvas, each corner a vignette, each path a slow reveal. It is a space not just planted, but composed: a testament to the emotional power of gardens when shaped by a true artist’s hand. With hindsight, I realise just how rare and generous the day was, not only the setting, but the conversation, the hospitality, the stillness. Patthana remains my favourite garden in Ireland and I often let my mind drift back to that day. We were scheduled to arrive at Patthana for lunch, but the morning brought heavy rain and grey skies. Cold, wet, and a bit disheartened, we couldn't help but feel that the weather might put a damper on our visit. Nothing quite prepares you for Patthana, just an unassuming street sign and a distinctive tall metal gate. As we stepped through into the Courtyard, TJ greeted us with a warm Irish welcome and a smile. Within moments, we were seated with friends, old and new, enjoying a delicious lunch. To our delight, sunlight began to filter in, and the rain clouds slowly drifted away. Even in the Courtyard, the garden burst with colour, bold, bright, and beautifully contrasting. Terracotta pots overflowed with life, each plant seemingly chosen with care. But one stopped me in my tracks: Abutilon ' Red Tiger ' , its vivid orange, lantern-like blooms dripping with raindrops from the morning showers. It was dazzling,delicate yet striking. I fell in love with it on the spot and now have one of my own at home, a living reminder of that unforgettable summer day at Patthana. Patthana begins at the Courtyard, a compact yet richly layered space beside the house. Grey stone walls provide a calm, architectural backdrop to a tapestry of potted plants, an eclectic and well-tended collection that brings colour and texture through the seasons. A small stone pond anchors the space, not only visually but ecologically. Planted with care and restraint, it offers structure and softness in equal measure, while gently sloping edges allow easy access for birds and insects. Nearby, a modest potting shed adds a note of charm and purpose. Every element here feels deliberate, designed to blur the boundaries between cultivated space and natural habitat. Height is confidently used throughout the Courtyard, giving the space a lovely sense of structure and rhythm. Climbing plants picked not just for their leaves but for their shapes, are carefully trained to gently separate the potting shed from the pond, adding a delightful touch of surprise. There’s a real charm in the handcrafted iron railings that curve gracefully around the steep stone steps leading up to the Inner Garden. Their elegant lines draw your eye upward, while colourful, textured pots placed along the way soften the climb. Together, they offer a gentle invitation, guiding you forward as little glimpses of the next garden space begin to reveal themselves. Originally, Patthana was made up of just two distinct spaces: the Courtyard and the Inner Garden. Over the years, TJ poured care and creativity into shaping them into peaceful, secluded retreats. With layered planting, thoughtfully placed trees, and gentle fencing, he carefully screened out neighbouring houses—not to shut the world out, but to draw visitors into a space that feels completely removed from everyday life. The result is a garden full of calm and quiet beauty, a green, embracing world that feels miles away, even though it’s just steps from the village street. In the Inner Garden, generous borders overflow with planting chosen for their colour harmony and year-round appeal. TJ’s eye for form and structure shines through, with layers of perennials, shrubs, and small trees adding texture and rhythm. As the garden evolved and space became tight, island beds were introduced into the lawn—an inspired way to create more room for planting. Curved paving stones weave gently between them, protecting the grass while guiding the eye through the space. From certain angles, these beds seem to merge with the surrounding borders, creating a beautiful illusion of depth and scale that makes the garden feel much larger than it really is. Colour is used with confidence at Patthana, guided by TJ’s training as an artist. Contrasting and complementary tones are placed with a painter’s instinct, creating vibrant yet balanced combinations. He’s unafraid to edit, even cutting back plants in full flower if they disrupt the overall composition, a boldness that brings clarity and cohesion to the planting. TJ often moves flower stems from one part of the garden to another, placing them temporarily to test new combinations. It’s a simple, effective way to judge how a plant will work in a different setting and a useful technique to adopt in your own garden, offering instant insight before making any permanent changes. One unexpected combination that works beautifully is the soft purple-pink of Valeriana officinalis   paired with the bold orange of Helenium  ‘Moerheim Beauty’ . It’s a striking contrast, yet it doesn't clash. The subtle tones are gently anchored by the warm hues of a nearby wooden building and the textured bark of a tree close by, proof that context, as much as colour, makes a planting work. It looks so natural and works perfectly, but this is very careful curation by TJ behind the scenes. He isn't afraid to experiment with plants, colour and form. For me, a garden is really about the plants and the design. Too often, though, gardens end up feeling cluttered with sculptures and statues. Patthana is different. There’s just a small amount of metalwork here, and it’s so subtle and thoughtfully placed that it blends in beautifully with the space, never distracting from the garden itself. I loved the intricate, artistic metal holders placed beside a wooden bench, perfect for setting down a drink while you pause and take in the garden. Subtly echoing the metalwork on the Courtyard Steps, they were discreetly tucked in among the ferns, easy to miss if you weren’t really looking. A small detail, but such a thoughtful one. Until fairly recently, the garden ended just beyond the boundary of the Inner Garden, with a farmer’s field stretching out beyond. But in the last few years, TJ and Simon had the chance to purchase that land, and the garden has since expanded to include the newly designed Torque Garden, as well as a Meadow and Pond. These new areas are tucked out of sight, connected to the Inner Garden by a softly planted, leafy woodland path. Stonework here mirrors that of the house, echoing the character of the Courtyard and creating a seamless transition. There’s a calm, almost meditative atmosphere in this space, an inviting pause before the garden opens out again. The Torque Garden has a strong prairie-style feel, with a winding path that guides you through the space, allowing you to see the borders from all angles and get up close to the plants, so close that you feel almost immersed in them. About halfway along the path, you come to a secluded gravel seating area with loungers and a fire pit. It’s completely tucked away within the planting, offering a real sense of privacy, and yet it still feels open and airy. The seating is wrapped in greenery, creating a sense of calm and gentle protection, a peaceful spot to pause and just be. As you leave the Torque Garden, the space opens up and a grass pathway leads you into a wildflower meadow. To the right, a row of trees gently frames the view, while to the left, sculpted earth banks cleverly screen the garden from the buildings beyond. At the same time, they subtly echo the curves and contours of the surrounding hills and distant mountains, creating a beautiful sense of harmony with the wider landscape. Even in this more open part of the garden, the planting is lush and abundant, spilling out of the borders and drawing the eye. If you’re lucky, you might catch sight of insects and butterflies flitting between blooms in search of nectar. The whole area hums with life, filled with striking plants like the beautiful Verbena bonariensis , which seems to self-seed freely throughout this extended part of the garden. Beyond the meadow, a striking borrowed view comes into focus, the local church, towering above the garden and naturally drawing your eye. TJ has thoughtfully placed a beautiful metal bench here, its wide arches echoing the church’s own architectural curves. It feels like wherever you stand in the garden, there’s always a plant or feature that adds something special to the view. Here, I spotted a tall, dramatic Teasel plant that stood proudly above me, marking both the beginning and the end of the meadow in a bold and beautiful way. As we walked back toward the house, the garden continued to surprise and delight. Through the Hawthorn trees, originally marking the boundaries of the Inner Garden, there’s a breath taking view stretching out to the stunning landscape beyond. The wooden fencing quietly fades away, drawing your eye instead to the gnarled, magnificent tree roots close by and the rolling hills in the distance, bursting with vibrant colour. The garden is truly spectacular. It feels like an artist’s ongoing masterpiece, not painted with brushes, but crafted with plants. At times, it literally took my breath away. The design and plant combinations are beautiful, and I hope that one day soon, I’ll be lucky enough to return to Patthana, a garden that is not only stunning but full of feeling and meaning, a rare and special combination. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

Gwaenynog isn’t open often, which only adds to its quiet allure. When I heard - last autumn -that the gates would open for a single weekend, I knew I had to go. Some gardens don’t just invite you; they call you. Tucked away in the Welsh countryside, Gwaenynog is more secret sanctuary than showpiece. Weathered walls, tangled borders, a sense of time standing still - it’s the kind of place that feels discovered rather than visited. The Walled Garden at Gwaenynog is intimate, timeworn, and steeped in story. Though I had never set foot inside it before, it felt instantly familiar. Perhaps that's because Beatrix Potter once wandered these same paths, sketchbook in hand, drawing inspiration from its gentle, unruly charm. Her time here lives on in both line and leaf. This garden is more than just a place - it’s a page from a beloved storybook. Gwaenynog’s Walled Garden was the setting for The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies, one of Beatrix Potter’s most cherished tales. She knew it well, often visiting, sketching, and capturing its quiet charm. In her secret journal, she called it “the prettiest kind of garden, where bright old-fashioned flowers grow amongst the currant bushes.” And standing alone in the garden, I saw exactly what she meant. It took a few hours to reach Wales, the sky low and grey, but as I turned through the gates of Gwaenynog, I knew the journey had been worth every mile. This was no ordinary garden - it belonged to Beatrix Potter’s Uncle Fred and Aunt Harriet Burton, and between 1895 and 1913, she visited often, perhaps as many as thirteen times. The Walled Garden, in particular, stirred her imagination. On this visit, several of her delicate garden sketches were on display - quiet echoes of the moments she once captured here in ink and memory. As I parked and made my way toward the garden, a quiet peacefulness settled over me - a sense of stepping not just into another place, but another time. There was a timeless charm to it all: the soft curve of the path, the weathered Gardener’s Cottage standing like a prelude to something special. Then, through the gate and into the Walled Garden itself - enclosed by tall stone walls I instantly recognised from Beatrix Potter’s sketches. Her presence was everywhere, not in a loud or curated way, but gently woven into the very fabric of the garden. It felt both deeply familiar and quietly magical. It was a quiet day, with few visitors around, and I had the rare luxury of wandering the garden in near solitude. Unhurried and uninterrupted, I could take in every detail - the shifting light, the scent of damp earth, the soft rustle of leaves. It’s a testament to the family who now care for Gwaenynog that the garden remains so beautifully unspoiled. There’s no hint of commercialisation here - only a deep respect for its history. It felt as though nothing had changed since Beatrix Potter walked these paths herself, sketching, imagining, and quietly absorbing the same enduring atmosphere. Surprisingly, it wasn’t always this peaceful or lovingly preserved. After Beatrix Potter’s time, the garden fell into quiet neglect. Much of it was ploughed over and horses then grazed where flower beds had bloomed. By the time the 1960s arrived, little remained of the original garden. Only two derelict greenhouses stood as silent reminders of what had been. It wasn’t until Janie Smith and her husband took on the property that restoration began, slowly breathing life back into the old walls and reawakening the spirit of the garden Beatrix had once known. The restoration began with Janie’s daughter, Frances - just twenty at the time, but already armed with horticultural knowledge gained from her time working in the Kitchen Garden at Chatsworth House. In 1988, she turned her attention to Gwaenynog, determined to revive the gardens with care and authenticity. Her vision was clear: to bring the garden back as closely as possible to how it would have looked during Beatrix Potter’s visits. It was a labour not just of skill, but of deep affection for history, for beauty, and for the quiet magic that lingers in old gardens. Much careful research went into the restoration. Frances reached out to Frederick Warne, Beatrix Potter’s original publisher, as well as the Victoria and Albert Museum for guidance. Studying Beatrix’s own detailed illustrations of the garden proved invaluable - they revealed not only the plants that once flourished there but also the original layout, design, and the very spirit of the place. Through this thoughtful work, Frances was able to breathe new life into Gwaenynog, restoring its unique sense of time and place. As with many success stories, a stroke of luck came in the form of David Lewis, a former apprentice who had worked in the garden during the 1940s. David’s vivid memories of the garden’s layout, plant varieties, and the fruits and vegetables grown there proved invaluable. His first hand knowledge allowed Frances to stay true to the original design, helping to restore the garden with a remarkable authenticity. Nestled within the garden is a charming potting shed, its upstairs windows crafted in a delicate Gothic style. It’s believed this very building inspired Mr. McGregor’s Potting Shed in Beatrix Potter’s stories. Restored alongside the garden, the shed now serves as a display space, housing captivating photographs that reveal the garden’s remarkable transformation - from neglected ruins to the vibrant, living place it is today. It was a joy to discover the family’s thoughtful tribute to those who helped restore the garden. A handwritten note, carefully displayed, acknowledged Mr. Wil Pierce, who lent his digging skills in the Kitchen Garden back in 1989. Small gestures like this spoke volumes about Janie and Frances - how deeply they valued every hand that contributed, ensuring that kindness and effort were remembered and honoured for visitors to see. Beatrix Potter wrote fondly of the garden, describing it as “very large, two thirds surrounded by a red brick wall with many apricots and an inner circle of old grey apple trees on wooden espaliers. It is very productive, but not tidy. The prettiest kind of garden.” This very garden inspired her delicate drawings - where, famously, the small rabbits in The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies succumb to the soporific charm of lettuce, captured with gentle humour and affection. Visiting in late autumn, I was fortunate to see many of the espaliered apple trees heavy with fruit - just as Beatrix had so lovingly described them. At the entrance gates, crates of windfall and other apples were thoughtfully laid out for visitors to take home, a simple, generous gesture that felt perfectly in keeping with the garden’s spirit. It was incredible to see how the current gardeners had carefully pruned and shaped the trees into espalier forms, and I found myself imagining the hands that had tended the trees in Beatrix’s day. In that moment, I truly felt the garden’s living connection to the past as I soaked up Gwaenynog’s timeless atmosphere. Visiting at the end of autumn, many of the summer flowers and roses had finished their season, yet the garden remained abundant with ripe apples. Brightly coloured Sedum and softly pastel Cosmos brought gentle bursts of colour, while roses climbed gracefully over wooden frames. I found myself longing to return in summer, to see the roses and herbaceous borders ablaze in their full, vibrant bloom. Beatrix Potter also set two of her unfinished stories - Flittermouse and Fluttermouse as well as Llewelyn's Well in the garden. The latter begins with a vivid description that brings the garden to life: "In Summer there were white and damask roses and the smell of thyme and musk. In Spring there were gooseberries and throstles, and the flowers they call ceninen. And leeks and cabbages also grew in that garden; and between long straight grass alleys, and apple trained espaliers, there were beds of strawberries, mint and sage. And great Holly trees and a thicket of nuts. It was a great big garden". These words paint a picture not just of a garden, but of a living, breathing world - a place where every season offers its own quiet wonders. Today, the vegetable and productive areas of the garden are thoughtfully separated from the flowers, roses, and herbaceous borders. I was lucky enough to spot some incredible pumpkins that put my own back home to shame. It was a poor year for pumpkins generally, yet these were thriving - so much so that I wish I’d asked about their variety. Their robust presence was a testament to the care and skill that continues to nurture this remarkable garden. Though it wasn’t the season to see the garden in full colour, I was delighted to find many plants left standing, untrimmed for winter, offering shelter and sustenance to birds and wildlife. These remnants of late season growth also made a striking architectural statement, their silhouettes adding a quiet beauty to the garden’s fading light.   I wholeheartedly recommend a visit to Gwaenynog if you find yourself in Wales. While many gardens have become over-commercialised tourist attractions, this one remains wonderfully true to its roots, intimate, unspoiled, and full of quiet charm. It’s a rare and precious place that invites you to slow down and simply be. Garden Writer | Guineveres Garden

Like many gardeners, my love for roses runs deep, woven into memory and tradition. The front garden of my childhood home was a rose garden, its blooms marking the seasons with colour and scent. Even earlier, my grandparents tended their own collection of Hybrid Tea roses, proudly grown when they were the height of fashion in the 1950s. That early connection has never left me; it’s part of why roses still hold such a special place in my heart, and my garden. In my Nana’s garden, a beautiful wooden trellis stretched the length of the lawn, its framework softened by the gentle sprawl of climbing roses. Today, that very trellis, now weathered by time and more than 80 years old, stands in my own garden, still supporting many of the same rose varieties she once lovingly tended. It’s more than just a structure; it’s a living thread to the past, rich with memory and meaning. Each bloom feels like a quiet echo of her care, a reminder that gardens often hold far more than just plants, they hold the people and stories we cherish most. When I moved into my current home, a cottage with over 400 years of history, I felt inspired to restore the garden in keeping with its heritage. I set about planting historic roses alongside traditional cottage garden favourites, seeking to create a space that honoured the past. It was during this journey that I began researching and sourcing Old Roses for myself, diving into the rich world of these timeless blooms and their stories. Roses have come full circle in my life, and in the lives of countless others. Through life’s highs and lows, they remain a constant presence, offering exquisite beauty and comfort. These blooms are more than flowers; they are living links to the past and symbols of hope for the future. It was this enduring connection and love for roses that drew me to this book the moment it caught my eye on a bookstore shelf. "Where the Old Roses Grow"  by Janelle McCulloch might initially seem to be focused solely on Vita Sackville-West and her fight to preserve beauty during wartime. Yet the book reaches far beyond one remarkable woman. It tells the stories of several key figures, Vita Sackville-West, Maud Messel, Constance Spry, Edward Bunyard, and Graham Stuart Thomas, each of whom played a vital role in rescuing and celebrating old roses. Together, they ensured these timeless blooms would endure for future generations to cherish. The book opens with Vita Sackville-West’s discovery of Sissinghurst, then a dilapidated estate, dismissed by some as little more than a “dump.” But Vita saw beyond its neglected state; she had a vision, and, crucially, the determination to bring it to life. When she first laid eyes on the house on 4 April 1930, she could hardly have imagined the profound influence the garden would have, not only on her own life but on the world of horticulture for generations to come. During the dark days of war, Sissinghurst became Vita’s sanctuary, a place of solace amid the doom and uncertainty that gripped the world. The house and garden, close to her heart, offered a refuge where she could find peace and quiet. Behind those ancient walls, Vita retreated to write and tend her beloved garden, seeking to escape the ominous drone of warplanes overhead and the turmoil that shadowed everyday life. Over time, Vita gradually built an impressive collection of roses, many of which cascaded freely over Sissinghurst’s tall brick walls, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colour and scent. She celebrated these roses and the garden in numerous books and newspaper columns, sharing her deep affection with readers far and wide. Beyond her writing, Vita nurtured connections with fellow rose enthusiasts, visiting and corresponding with those who shared her passion for these timeless blooms. The book opens with the story of a mysterious solitary rose that Vita discovered when she first arrived at Sissinghurst. So enigmatic was this bloom that even the most esteemed rosarians could not identify it. Vita named it the Sissinghurst Rose, and it remains available to gardeners today, a living symbol of the beginning of her remarkable life at the estate. Poignantly, her story closes with another exquisite rose, Madame Alfred Carrière, just coming into bloom and climbing near her bedroom window as Vita fell ill in her final days. These two roses beautifully frame her journey, from hopeful arrival to a graceful farewell. Timing is everything, and what makes this book so compelling is its release during a period of uncertainty much like the one Vita experienced. Just as she found solace in her garden during wartime, many of us turned to our own gardens during the challenges of Covid. Today, in an unsettled world, our gardens continue to offer comfort and calm, a peaceful refuge amid the noise of daily life. This timely connection between past and present makes Where the Old Roses Grow  especially resonant. For me, this book is a story of connection, a beautiful intertwining of past and present, people and roses. It’s this seamless blend that makes it so captivating and why I found myself unable to put it down. While grounded in fact, the narrative unfolds like fiction, weaving in and out of the lives of several remarkable individuals. The result is a compelling, richly textured story that celebrates both history and beauty. Many of the characters in the book, real people with rich and varied lives, began with different vocations. Vita Sackville-West pursued writing, Constance Spry built a career in floristry, and Edward Bunyard was renowned for his fruit nursery in Kent. For each, roses were initially a secondary interest, a quiet passion alongside their main pursuits. Yet over time, these timeless blooms came to occupy a central place in their lives, shaping their stories and legacies in unexpected and profound ways. The book is clearly the result of meticulous research, and I found myself frequently jotting down names, places, and plant varieties to explore further. I was particularly fascinated by Maud Messel and how the rose collection at Nymans, now beautifully wild, entwining the garden’s ruins, deeply influenced her life. Equally compelling was the story of Graham Stuart Thomas, who began his interest in old roses from a commercial perspective but ultimately relocated his entire collection to Mottisfont, creating a lasting legacy there in his later years. These remarkable individuals went to great lengths to treasure, protect, and source their roses. They traveled across Europe in search of rare varieties, took cuttings to preserve roses for future generations, and shared their finds generously with friends. All this while steadfastly refusing to dig up their beloved roses during wartime, even as the “Dig for Victory” campaign urged the nation to convert gardens into vegetable plots. Their unwavering commitment ensured that these historic blooms survived through some of the most challenging times. "Where the Old Roses Grow" is one of the most captivating books I’ve read in a long time. Janelle McCulloch has breathed life into the stories of these remarkable rose lovers, weaving history and passion into every page. I hope that one day I’ll have the chance to meet her in person and thank her for opening this beautiful world to me through her writing. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

Tulips have long been a personal favorite, but my interest intensified significantly following an encounter with Polly Nicholson's beautiful book, "The Tulip." This appreciation deepened further after attending a compelling presentation by Nicholson herself, where she showcased her remarkable collection of historic tulip varieties. Curiosity piqued, I soon found myself drawn to the Netherlands, compelled to witness first hand the internationally acclaimed Keukenhof Garden, home to an impressive display of more than seven million flowering bulbs that attracts horticultural enthusiasts each year, from across the globe. Located just outside Amsterdam, Keukenhof opens its doors for eight weeks each year, typically from the end of March through May. The spectacle you’ll experience varies depending on when you visit, but in early April, the daffodils and narcissus are usually in full bloom, accompanied by the first of the early flowering tulips Keukenhof has earned its reputation as the most beautiful spring garden in the world, and as I walked through its gates, expectations were high. Yet, the garden not only met them but surpassed them. While Keukenhof can feel somewhat commercial, drawing in crowds from all over, its vast expanse allowed for a surprising sense of space, never feeling overwhelming despite the throngs of visitors. The meticulous organisation of the garden was immediately apparent, every path seemed carefully planned, inviting visitors to meander at their own pace, taking in the breathtaking sea of tulips in all their glory. My visit began with the Historic Tulip Garden, where the layout, designed in the classic parterre style, immediately drew me in. The garden was framed by low Buxus hedging, complemented by graceful water features and perfectly pruned trees that added structure and depth to the space. Everything was meticulously labelled, making it easy to pause, take note, and truly connect with the plants on display. Among the many beauties, I found myself particularly drawn to Narcissus   'Conspicuus' , a variety with roots stretching back to 1869, as well as the delicate Narcissus   dubbel   'Pip van Winkle' and the striking Fritillaria 'The Premier. ' Keukenhof has something for everyone. Whether you’re leisurely strolling to take in the vibrant colours, having a well-deserved break, or stopping to admire a sculpture or water feature, there’s always a moment to pause and appreciate. For the curious, the informative boards offer fascinating insights into the rich history behind the iconic bulbs, making the experience all the more enriching. In the Historic Garden there was a wealth of information about the daffodil. Once a wildflower native to the regions surrounding the Mediterranean and Central Europe, the daffodil has undergone a remarkable transformation. Its journey to prominence in Northern Europe began in the late 16th century, when Dutch botanist Carolus Clusius (1526–1609) introduced the plant to the Netherlands. Clusius, known for his role in the spread of tulips, helped spark interest in the daffodil among European horticulturists. Centuries later, that curiosity has blossomed into a global fascination. Today, there are more than 26,000 known varieties of daffodils, blooming in a range of colors beyond their classic yellow orange, white, green, and even pink varieties now brighten gardens around the world. Leaving the Historic Tulip Garden behind, a gentle path meanders toward Oranje Nassau, where the garden transitions into a spectacular showcase of roses, all brimming with colour and fragrance. Though tulips once stole the show here, traces of their legacy still linger, stories of cultivation, trade, and obsession rooted deep in the soil. It’s a space where seasons shift but the sense of history remains, offering visitors a chance to pause, breathe in the bloom, and reflect on the enduring charm of the bulb that shaped a nation’s garden culture. The tulip first made its way to Dutch soil in the 16th century, arriving from the Ottoman Empire, modern-day Turkey, through thriving trade routes. What began as a curiosity soon became a national obsession. By the 1630s, the Netherlands was in the grip of Tulip Mania , a short but intense period when rare bulbs were traded for staggering sums, some fetching as much as 4,400 guilders, more than the cost of a house at the time. Though the frenzy faded, the passion endured. Today, the legacy lives on in vibrant fields stretching across 15,000 hectares, where tulips bloom by the millions each spring, a living tribute to the flower that once captivated a nation. At the heart of Keukenhof lies the Willem-Alexander Pavilion, a true haven for tulip enthusiasts. Inside, thousands of tulips bloom in a breathtaking indoor display,an explosion of colour, form, and fragrance beneath one roof. For garden lovers, it’s pure delight: each variety is clearly labelled, making it easy to discover favourites and jot down inspiration for future planting. Whether you're drawn to the soft pastels or the bold bi-colours, this display offers endless possibilities. For me, it was the highlight of Keukenhof, a moment of floral abundance that lingers in the memory long after the petals fall. One of my own personal favourites was Tulipa ' Lasergame'. Visiting Keukenhof was a revelation. I had no idea there were so many variations in colour, shape, and form among tulips, each with its own distinct feel. The experience left me brimming with ideas for my own garden. I’ve selected a few striking combinations to weave into the borders of my cottage garden, and in my cutting garden, I’ll be experimenting each spring with new varieties that caught my eye in the Netherlands. Keukenhof isn’t just a feast for the senses; it’s a source of real inspiration. If you love gardening, or simply appreciate beauty—it’s well worth the journey to see the tulips in bloom and discover their rich and fascinating history. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

A visit to Ninfa was high on my garden visit wish list. Anticipation was high as Ninfa, nestling dreamily at the foot of the Lepini mountains in Lazio (Italy), embraced by the hauntingly beautiful ruins of a medieval village, has been called the most romantic garden in the world. I arrived at Ninfa during a perfectly idyllic afternoon - golden sunshine caressing the ancient stones, a gentle breeze whispering through the trees, hang gliders soaring against the majestic mountain backdrop, and a lone bird of prey circling elegantly in the blue sky above. The setting was spectacular, and as I meandered through the garden behind my knowledgeable guide, I was thankful for the rare privilege of experiencing this exquisite, centuries old sanctuary full of stunning roses and profound history. Our visit was in early May, that magical window when the roses unveil themselves in their full splendour and their petals are unfurled in perfect bloom. As a complete rose novice, I found myself captivated by this living gallery - each variety revealing its unique character through delicate hue, architectural form or intoxicating fragrance. I wandered the paths with purpose, mentally cataloguing inspirations that might transform the modest borders of my own garden at home. The roses were cascading dramatically from ancient, ruined towers and gnarled trees, scrambling along crumbling archways and dangling precariously over crystal clear waters in which their silhouettes were perfectly reflected.   The structure, form and planting of the garden functioned in perfect harmony, and according to our guide, botanical principles and historical considerations govern every aspect of the gardens’ arrangement. Ninfa is named after a temple dedicated to sacred nymphs in the first century, the foundations of which have been discovered beneath the waters of Ninfa's man-made lake, creating a mystical connection between the past and present in this dreamy landscape. After experiencing a tumultuous past, Ninfa was ultimately deserted following its pillage and devastation in 1382. Never completely restored, the site was finally abandoned by its last residents because of expanding wetlands and disease. For centuries, Ninfa remained dormant and forgotten. The Caetani family, who owned the land, eventually began restoring the area in the late 19th century, focusing on creating the Giardino di Ninfa, which stands as an amazing testament to their vision and dedication.     In 1921 Ninfa passed into the hands of Prince Gelasio Caetani, who applied his engineering expertise to revitalize the estate. He meticulously restored and cleared the ancient walls, stabilized the riverbanks, and enhanced the lake and water systems throughout the grounds. Though horticulture was not his principal interest, Prince Caetani highly valued seclusion, which led him to establish many of the magnificent trees that now define the landscape. However it was the "Ladies of Ninfa" who planted the roses - Ada, Marguerite and Leila - grandmother, mother and daughter. Roses were first introduced to Ninfa by Prince Gelasio's English mother, Ada Constance Bootle-Wilbraham, who recognized that the rich soils would nurture these elegant blooms. She cultivated primarily Teas and Noisettes, but also strategically positioned roses against the ancient walls where they could intertwine with the ivy, their vibrant petals creating a stunning contrast against the lush evergreen backdrop. Ada planted Rosa moschata , ‘Alister Stella Grey’, ‘Madame Alfred Carriere’, ‘Marechal Niel’ and ‘General Schiablikine’.  She carefully transplanted cuttings from the rose bushes flourishing in her other garden at Fogliana, with historical records suggesting these elegant varieties were initially imported from England. After Gelasio’s death, his sister-in-law, Marguerite, Duchess of Sermoneta continued planting roses at Ninfa.  Marguerite planted ‘Mermaid’, ‘Reve d’Or’, ’Allen Chandler’, Rosa x anemonoides , ‘Francois Juranvile’, ‘Madame Laurette Messimy’, ‘Cramoisi Superieur’, ‘Zephirine Droubhin’, Rosa odorata , Rosa cooperi , ‘Fortune’s Double Yellow’, Rosa roxburghii ‘Plena’ and Rosa chinensis  ‘Mutabilis’. In around 1950 Marguerite’s daughter, Princess Leila an artist and plant lover continued the traditions of planting roses in the garden. Leila chose ‘Buff Beauty’, ‘Cornelia’, ‘Vanity’, ‘Moonlight’, ‘La Follette’, ‘Belle of Portugal’, ‘Ramona’, Rosa laevigata , Rosa bracteata , ‘Canary Bird’, ‘Hamburger’, ‘Phoenix’, ‘Kassel’ and ‘Nymphenburg’ There are over 200 varieties of Rose at Ninfa but the one which captivated me was Rosa  ‘Agripinna’ a stunning cherry red rose with a mild raspberry fragrance, which was gracefully climbing a tree beside the lake, its vibrant colour creating a striking contrast against the tranquil water. Via some research, I discovered that this particular rose was introduced in France by Jean-Baptiste Paillet in 1834 under the name 'Cramoisi Superieur'. It was among the roses Marguerite had brought to the garden. I felt a thrill at establishing this connection to the past, though I'll defer to the experts for confirmation of my identification. My visit to Ninfa followed a predetermined route, with our attentive guide ensuring we remained on the designated pathways, limiting opportunities for independent exploration. Nevertheless, I felt a sense of exclusivity as we appeared to be the sole visitors that afternoon, affording us precious moments to linger, immerse ourselves in the enchanting atmosphere, and capture stunning photographs. Ninfa has cast its spell on me, and already I find myself wanting to return someday. For those interested in exploring Ninfa in greater depth, its rich history, fascinating people, notable connections, diverse plant life and of course, the roses, I recommend reading the following books. “The Garden of Ninfa” – by Marella Caracciolo and Giuppi Piertromarchi “Ninfa – The Most Romantic Garden in the World” – by Charles Quest-Ritson Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer

Step into the world of "Wonderlands - British Garden Designers at Home", a captivating new book written by Clare Coulson and brought to life through Eva Nemeth's stunning photography. This book visits the private gardens of eighteen top British garden designers, not the gardens they create for clients, but the ones they build for themselves. It’s full of personal stories, reflections, and plenty of inspiring ideas, all brought to life through stunning photography. What really drew me into Clare’s book was how it uses colour, especially the darker shades, to bring the land to life in a thoughtful, understated way. The deep forest green cover isn’t just there to look good; it sets the tone. Instead of relying on bold, flashy images, the book opts for shadowy hues with the occasional burst of colour. That quiet, intentional style mirrors the designers' philosophy perfectly. It gives you a sense of how they engage with the land, working with it rather than over it, and subtly shaping it to reflect their own sense of place. Professional designers often work within constraints, tight deadlines, client demands, and prescribed aesthetics. These limitations can restrict creative freedom and dilute personal vision. In contrast, their private gardens offer complete autonomy. Free from external pressure, designers can explore ideas at their own pace, experiment boldly, and adapt organically. These spaces become pure expressions of their artistic identity, unfiltered reflections of their design philosophy and creative spirit, unlike anything shaped by client expectations. Rather than reading the book cover to cover, I was instinctively drawn to the chapters on designers whose work has long captivated me - Butter Wakefield, Sarah Price, Arabella Lennox-Boyd, and Arne Maynard. Their gardens have always resonated deeply, continuing to spark my imagination and broaden my sense of what a garden can be. Once I’d explored those familiar voices, I turned to the designers I knew less about, and was pleasantly surprised. Their stories offered fresh ideas and unexpected perspectives, a rewarding reminder of the endless creativity and innovation in garden design. Butter Wakefield is a gardener and designer I’ve admired for years, thanks to her gift for crafting small gardens that feel both personal and universally inviting. At the heart of her design lies a wildflower meadow, gently flowing through the garden with a natural, effortless charm. Eager to discover more, I turned to the book, which offered a wonderful glimpse into Butter’s experience nurturing this special space. The meadow bursts with life, from Narcissi and Cowslips to Geranium phaeum and the striking Allium ‘Purple Sensation'. But it’s the steel water bowl at the center that truly invites you in, a peaceful, meditative feature that welcomes birds, insects, and visitors alike to share in the garden’s quiet magic. My admiration for Sarah Price runs deep, especially after her stunning success at the 2024 Chelsea Flower Show and her key role in restoring Cedric Morris’s former home, Benton End, through the Garden Museum’s inspiring project. But what really draws me in, and what the book beautifully highlights—is how she cares for what used to be her grandparents’ garden in the idyllic Monmouthshire countryside. This garden, steeped in family history, offers a heartfelt connection to her past, a living bridge between generations. It’s this rare blend of personal memory and historic restoration that gives Sarah’s gardens a special sense of purpose and authenticity. Her gift for weaving together past and present makes her work not only inspiring but deeply moving. I was especially excited to see Arabella Lennox-Boyd featured in the book. Her work has been a lasting source of admiration for me, and my visit to Gresgarth Hall, along with her insightful talk on ‘Gardens of My Life’ at the Geographical Society, only deepened my respect for her vision. Arabella’s name is synonymous with excellence in landscape design, having created stunning gardens for clients like Sting and the Duke of Westminster. What makes her story truly remarkable, though, is her journey, from a single mother in London studying Landscape Architecture to building a celebrated career through skill and quiet resilience. Her path is a powerful reminder of the dedication behind every beautiful garden she’s designed. Arne Maynard holds a special place in my heart as my all-time favourite garden designer. His book, "The Gardens of Arne Maynard", was a turning point for me,transforming a casual interest into a deep passion. Some time ago, I was lucky enough to stay at Allt y Bela, his home nestled in the rolling Monmouthshire countryside. The experience was truly transformative. Bertie Bainbridge, the Head Gardener at the time, gave me a personal tour that went far beyond the usual, it felt like stepping into a living story, where every corner of the garden reflected Arne’s unique vision. That day, the connection between designer and landscape, artistry and nature, came alive for me in a powerful way. So, I was genuinely thrilled to see him featured in Clare’s book. The chapter on Arne Maynard is truly captivating. It reveals not only his deep understanding of how a garden can enhance and blend seamlessly with its surroundings, but also how the landscape itself holds meaning. What stands out most is Arne’s view of himself as a gardener first, rather than a traditional designer, a refreshing perspective that roots his work in the living, breathing world of nature instead of just aesthetics. His garden is always evolving, a dynamic space where editing and refining are part of the creative journey. One especially intriguing detail is his ‘cabinet of curiosities’,a private, almost secret spot by his house where he gathers inspiration and reflects. This glimpse into his ongoing creative process offers a fascinating look at a designer whose work goes beyond design, embracing personal expression and thoughtful exploration. I found myself naturally drawn to the chapters featuring my favourite designers, those whose work truly speaks to my sensibilities and style. But what really stands out in this book is how Clare Coulson has beautifully woven together a rich tapestry of diverse voices and approaches, making sure there’s something to resonate with every reader, no matter their background or taste. It’s a rare gift to see such a wide range of design philosophies brought together in one place. This book is not just a source of inspiration but a valuable resource for anyone interested in gardening and design. Whether you’re a seasoned gardener or an aspiring designer, I can’t recommend it highly enough. Garden Writer | Guineveres Garden

There are places that feel quietly removed from the hurry of the world, where the days seem to unfold more slowly. Fittleworth House, nestled in the folds of the Sussex countryside, is one of those places. I was recently invited to wander its gardens, not alone, but in the company of the head gardener, who has tended this land for nearly three decades. His knowledge ran deep, and as we set off along the drive, it felt less like a tour and more like stepping into someone else’s well-loved story. The path curved gently alongside the house, leading us toward an extraordinary Holm Oak, a towering, timeworn sentinel that loomed protectively above the house and the shaded border below. Its sheer height was surprising, its wide canopy arching with age and elegance, as if it had been quietly watching over the garden for centuries. Beneath it, the air was hushed and steeped in the gentle authority that old trees so often possess. We passed through the garden gate and stepped onto a wide grass terrace that ran the length of the house like a green ribbon. It sloped gently downward, drawing the eye toward the walled gardens that lay below, hidden slightly as though keeping their secrets for those who cared to wander closer. The house itself wore its history gracefully. Wisteria clung to its walls draping the façade and fluttering faintly in the breeze. At its feet, a delicate border of herbaceous plants mingled with perennial sweet peas, their tendrils curling gently. But it was the roses that held the gaze, a full, fragrant row stretching the entire length of the terrace, their heads lifted toward the sun as if in quiet pride. They were both elegant and unapologetically romantic, their colours glowing against the green. It was a place that seemed designed for pausing, to breathe, to reflect, to simply be. The only sound was birdsong, that light and lyrical chorus of a garden fully alive and, in one tender moment, we caught sight of a fledgling robin, perched delicately on the back of a weathered garden chair. As if he, too, had stopped to admire the view. This is a garden that leans into simplicity, where nature is given space to breathe, and design is thoughtful but never overworked. It’s the kind of landscape where everything feels intentional, yet nothing feels forced. From the house, there are uninterrupted sightlines that draw the eye outwards, guiding your gaze through the garden and into the open countryside beyond. It’s a quiet choreography of structure and space, where alignment matters, not for symmetry’s sake, but for the feeling it creates. To the side of the house, a pair of French doors opens directly onto a broad lawn. From here, your view stretches across to a ha-ha, that timeless landscape feature that gently dissolves the boundary between garden and field. Beyond the drop, estate railings mark the edge of the property, broken only by a single, beautifully placed statue. It stands not as decoration, but as a deliberate focal point, drawing the eye, anchoring the scene, and adding a moment of pause to the sweep of green. At this end of the garden, the mood shifts slightly, more shaded, more introspective. An enormous Cedar of Lebanon rises from the slope, its vast trunk and weathered limbs a reminder of just how long it has stood watch here. Some of its branches, lost over time, still rest where they fell, not cleared away, but left in place, as if honouring the tree’s long history. A narrow, man-made stream weaves its way down the incline, adding movement and sound to the stillness. The upper reaches are thickly planted, ferns, grasses, and low shrubs creating a dense, almost woodland feel. But further down, the planting gives way to a wilder, looser look. The lines blur. Nature takes the lead. Tucked into this more untamed corner is a piece of sculpture, striking in form, yet perfectly at home in its surroundings. It hasn’t been placed to impress, but to be discovered. And when you do come upon it, it feels as if it’s always been there, waiting quietly in the landscape, part of the story, not the centre of it. From there, we crossed the lawn and moved into a more formal part of the garden, again, carefully aligned with the house, this time with its front entrance. The symmetry was quiet but deliberate, anchoring this space with a sense of intention. A short flight of stone steps led us down to a circular pond at the heart of the setting. At its heart, a sculpture stood poised above the water, its presence calm and composed, reflecting softly on the surface below. Around it, the design was more structured, neat lawns edged with herbaceous borders, their colours carefully balanced, their shapes echoing the garden’s geometry. Just beyond the pond stood a towering yew hedge, dense, dark, and impeccably clipped. Into it, a small arched opening had been cut. It was both framing and inviting, a moment of mystery in a space defined by order. You couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Beyond the arch, the garden seemed to shift again, offering the promise of something less formal, perhaps more secret. It was one of those beautifully considered transitions that makes you want to keep walking, just to see what lies ahead. Beyond the yew hedge lay a vegetable garden that spoke of careful hands and disciplined attention. It was immaculate, not a weed to be found. Rows of vegetables stretched out in tidy lines, their neatness almost sculptural against the walls to the side and beyond. Nearby, a large fruit cage stood guard over its treasures, while borders of dahlias had been planted to add vibrant colour and texture. A wide grass walkway ran straight through the centre, inviting slow, deliberate steps and the chance to take in the quiet perfection of the space. But for me, the most special corner of Fittleworth was the gardener’s own private retreat, tucked discreetly to the side of the walled vegetable garden. It felt like the very heart of the place, a space where the garden’s magic was quietly born. Here stood a charming potting shed, arranged with meticulous care. A sturdy potting bench bore the marks of countless seasons, while terracotta pots were stacked neatly, like silent promises of growth to come. Seed trays were laid out with precision, each one waiting patiently for its turn. The order of this small sanctuary explained everything about the garden itself: its calm, its balance, its effortless perfection. It was a reminder that behind every sweeping vista and every delicate bloom, there is always quiet, steadfast dedication. Beside the potting shed, a neat row of cold frames stood ready for the changing seasons, while a large greenhouse brimmed with tomatoes and other tender plants. Everything here was laid out with the same meticulous care, immaculate, purposeful, and thriving. Among the greenery, a Pelargonium ‘Pink Rapsail’ caught my eye. Its delicate pink flowers seemed almost translucent in the soft light, standing tall and proud above me. It was clear this plant was thriving, perfectly placed in a spot where it could flourish, a quiet testament to the gardener’s thoughtful hand. To the side of the greenhouse stood a simple wooden table accompanied by two chairs, a quiet refuge where the gardeners could pause, rest, and take a well earned break. At the centre of the table was an unusual bonsai-style sycamore, its gnarled roots twisting gracefully beneath a canopy of fresh green leaves. It caught the eye effortlessly, a small sculpture of nature’s patience and artistry, quietly anchoring the space. It had been a quietly magical afternoon, the kind that lingers in the mind long after you’ve left. As I prepared to go, I thanked the gardener for so generously sharing a glimpse of this remarkable place. Before stepping away, I paused to sign the visitors’ book, and found myself thinking about that beautiful bonsai-style sycamore. I knew that once I returned home, I’d try to recreate something similar, a small reminder of this garden recreated in my own personal space. This, I think, is the true joy of visiting gardens. No matter how grand, historic, or different from our own, there’s always something to take away, an idea, a detail, a quiet moment, that plants itself in our memory and, sometimes, even in our own soil. And that, in itself, is a very special gift. Guineveres Garden | Garden Writer