What is it about Rousham?
The thing which lifts my spirits in the cold wet spring is first, a ray of sunshine, and second: colour!
And yes, that does include green. Spring green:
But most of all, something with real pow!
And, I confess, when we are about to have visitors, I feel desperate for lots of flowers and colour in the garden for them.
So it doesn’t surprise me much seeing a lot of Great Dixter on Instagram, being much admired and enjoyed.
However, despite its amazing reputation and fame, it is not the garden which gets the most praise from the (other) most sophisticated and knowledgeable garden professionals. The real favourite, the absolutely best garden, is in total contrast – it is Very Green.
Now this marks me out as a philistine and I’m taking my chances on being dismissed forever as any kind of serious garden lover, but Rousham leaves me cold.
I think I’ve referred to it before in the context of its statues. This one is set to be viewed from the windows of the house. Nice to have with your morning toast.
But most people, I think, ignore that these days.
You don’t hear much about it. No, what is admired is the garden itself. If you want to hear the reverential tone which is commonly used to describe it, and have a Monty Don tour of the highlights, here is a video.
Or here is my hero, Tim Richardson, telling you how amazing it is.
Mostly, it is like this:
There are bushes, trees, classical style buildings and statues.
It has a rather cool pool.
and a rather murky one
This view, with the goose (? ) scurrying away from the rather precarious and chilly woman, makes me giggle. Was it meant to?
I don’t think that it is the ornamental garden beyond this that is the admired bit – it is not referenced at all by Monty Don and I don’t think the designer, William Kent, was responsible for it. It has a slightly familiar feel:
So, you will have gathered, that I don’t understand the enormous admiration for this garden.
It’s (mostly) pleasant. I like woodland and views of the British countryside well enough, but they are not in short supply. Statues and classical buildings not so much. A meandering rill is sweet.
My question for you is this – can you illuminate me?
What makes this garden so special? Do you really prefer the greenness to the kind of colour which makes Dixter also so very popular? Which would you rather?
Would you be disappointed, do you fear, if you were taken there to see one of The Very Greatest Gardens?
But, confession time: I did do a takeaway:
If you’re interested enough to want to see some comments on this post, it is also on Garden Rant.
Received by email and added here as really illuminating:
Well you are not a philistine but Rousham just doesn’t ’sing’ for you. It is a deeply contemplative space and I wouldn’t call it a garden at all. Firstly, you must walk it alone as any one else is a distraction. In fact even other visitors spoil it for me. Luckily, although it is lauded to the skies, I’ve usually had it to myself, which says something. Ie most folks want pretty flowers. The peacocks are a delight but the house is a calamity.
Some of the statues are a mistake in my view. One or two big Moore’s in dark grey would suit the mood much better, with shapes to match the layout and paths. I like the rill particularly and the planting on either side. I don’t know what happened to the fruit garden but that could have something better. However, that end is saved by the glorious pigeon house.
The photo you took of those two badly dressed women below that dismal statue would be enough to put me off, but without them, just the curve of the river behind you, and once more one can get back into a good place. Any flowers would be out of place.
Another ‘garden’ along the same lines but very heavily visited is Hinton Ampner, not far from me. Have a look at that, a place much more suited to you with fine views and massive and really good planting. All done under very difficult conditions.
Louise Bendall
I was very fortunate in the timing of my visit, which was about thirty years ago. A sunny May morning, no one in sight except a peahen who was perched hopefully on the kitchen windowsill. One of many moments I enjoyed, but it was the enchantment of the Rill Walk that I shall never forget. The canopy of trees, airy yet enclosing, the lure of that winding thread of water, and the light and shade, enhanced by the contrast of pale new leaves and dark evergreens. First, the unexpectedness of the Cold Bath, and then, beyond all the green, open sky, and the Octagonal Pond, framed by a copper beech in new leaf. The waterlilies were unfurling garnet-red leaves over the water, which was alight with a crowd of golden orfe. It was the ultimate in expectation and surprise.