It’s been a perfect weekend in Oxfordshire, of high summer gardens and the blue moon. We were staying at Wardington, but on the way, leaving London lazily on Saturday morning (after Arthur’s leaving party from the office the night before), we decided to stop briefly at Rousham – which has to be one of the most heavenly gardens in England.
I realise that every time I visit Rousham I pretty much take exactly the same photographs. I am sure you won’t mind.
The walled garden was sublime and full to bursting.
…even if Charlie’s sweet peas are a bit better this year! But the hollyhocks were a dream.
And the gladioli were something else. Incredible.
In the dovecot garden, the foxgloves that we saw when we visited from the office a year ago (which you can see here) were over…
But the cherries were out.
And the dahlia border was about to burst into life.
I love the glimpses back to Kent’s superb stable block.
I adore Rousham, and so does Charlie. It’s the first time he and I had been together. Short, but wonderful.
We day dreamed of getting some chickens with strange socks. And of visiting Gifford’s circus, which I think we have missed this year…. not enough weekends.
And then we left, and drove to Wardington, where we found another slice of high summer heaven.
Tea on the terrace:
Violence on the croquet lawn:
Followed by victory….
I popped over the lane to enjoy Bridgie’s flower field, which we are all familiar with now, I suspect, from blogs past. She kept on saying it looked dreadful, but I am afraid I was not able to agree.
The new Dahlia borders, which only back in June looked like this:
Now look like this:
Bonkers. I’ve never known anyone with quite so much energy as Bridget. And I’m not quite sure how she manages to make her plants grow with quite so much enthusiasm, but then that’s the land gardeners for you.
The meadow was looking soft and hazy….
Hydrangeas and white buddleja abundant.
I had my little walk around the garden, but soon settled back into the banter and laughter of the happy Sunday evening, and we realised that time had flown so fast today it was unreal, as if we were in a dream. We are staying here tonight too, as we have an early meeting tomorrow up this way, and I’m writing now in the beautiful oak panelled library that you saw earlier. This gentle, rambling house is completely silent and still, and soon it is time for bed.
In a week or two, Charlie and I will be in Italy. We sat lazing in the August heat this afternoon wondering why on earth we want to leave the drowsy magic of England in high summer – although secretly I will admit I almost cannot wait for the different perspective that a real change of scenery brings.