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.
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.
Yes, it’s strange - it seems clear that if Rousham was as popular as it’s reputation suggests it should be, the crowds would destroy the pleasure people get from a visit. It would have killed your pleasure, I think?
Perhaps when visiting gardens generally, it may matter how crowded it is likely to be. How to tell?
A very good point, Anne. Looking back and imagining the same scenes surrounded by crowds, it would certainly have all but killed the pleasure. When I arrived there was a pile of little leaflets in the gateway. It warned: no teas, no lunches and maybe even no dogs, if I recall correctly. Bring a picnic basket it advised, ending " and Rousham is yours for the day." And so it was .
Dixter for me every time. I love green. I have loads of it and it is the backbone of my garden but for me gardens need colour and lots of it to make me smile.
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.
Yes, it’s strange - it seems clear that if Rousham was as popular as it’s reputation suggests it should be, the crowds would destroy the pleasure people get from a visit. It would have killed your pleasure, I think?
Perhaps when visiting gardens generally, it may matter how crowded it is likely to be. How to tell?
A very good point, Anne. Looking back and imagining the same scenes surrounded by crowds, it would certainly have all but killed the pleasure. When I arrived there was a pile of little leaflets in the gateway. It warned: no teas, no lunches and maybe even no dogs, if I recall correctly. Bring a picnic basket it advised, ending " and Rousham is yours for the day." And so it was .
Lucky! And, yes, I remember an honesty box.
Didn't Monty say it was one of his top gardens? I don't quite get it either but I always assume it's because I don't know enough about gardens yet.
He did - I included a link to a video with his description. I'm not sure it's illuminating.
Dixter for me every time. I love green. I have loads of it and it is the backbone of my garden but for me gardens need colour and lots of it to make me smile.
It's the smile which is worth having. We can admire sometimes still find no smile comes.