Thursday, 17 July 2014

The garden at Five Oaks Cottage


Tucked away in a secret spot, along a hazel-shaded lane in the heart of the South Downs, is an unusual and quirky garden encircling a cottage near Petworth in the South Downs National Park, with breathtaking views across the Sussex countryside 


Today, the garden was soaked in bright July sunshine beneath clear, windless skies. The sounds of traffic and towns were replaced with the hum, buzz and chirrups of insects and birds. Managed organically, as a wildlife garden, the garden has been under the ownership and care of Jean Jackman (Twitter @Selfseeding) since she and her husband Steve brought the house on 1994. 
Since that first year, many hours of hard work have transformed the garden into a beautiful, thriving wildlife haven (quite a feat considering the heavy acidic clay soil). A past life as a plant buyer for a garden centre chain has given Jean the opportunity to amass a collection of unusual plants, many chosen for their architectural qualities, their scent or their intriguing back-stories. 







In fact, every plant in the garden seems to have a story or a reason for being there; the bamboo from a friends recommendation, the tree where the Owl perches on quiet evening, or a  mother's much-loved-favourite. Gravel and brick paths, where wildflowers often choose to self seed, take you on a winding journey through the borders, and lead through the garden to a glorious meadow. 

Tall golden grasses wave in the softest of breezes and yellow Birds-foot-trefoil peers out from the edge of the mown paths. 
Purple Knapweed is currently the star of the show, attracting a throng of insects. Bees hum from flower to flower, Hoverflies dance at the edge of your sight, and Butterflies flit on dainty wings; the Small White and the Common Blue, the Meadow Brown and the Small Skipper, and like a flying pocket-chessboard the unusual and beautiful Marbled White.    












An old crooked apple tree, with lichen covered branches, lazes at the end of the meadow, keeping an eye of the productive vegetable patch. 
A feature throughout the garden, is metal work, with quirky artesian gates and obelisks providing both a smile, and a perfect perch for sun-basking dragonflies.

Birds are here too, with Sparrows, Tits and a tiny Goldcrest, performing their circus tricks in high branches. 







I left the garden, for the shady drive down the hazel-lined lane, with a feeling of total relaxation, and smiling at the knowledge that even as I travelled back into town, bees and butterflies were still dancing between flowers of purple, yellow and white, beneath the summer sun. 


The garden is open through July, in support of Sussex Wildlife Trust.
To visit, contact Jean with your preferred date, via twitter @Selfseeding or ring 07939 272 443

Monday, 14 July 2014

Paradise at Parham; proud, pioneering, anything but predictable

"The most wonderful thing about Parham is that it has never changed.
It has never lost any of its charm." Lady Emma Barnard

It would be easy to rush along the busy road between Storrington and Pulborough in West Sussex, and pass by the white gateway that is the entrance of Parham House and Gardens. But you’d be missing out. I have done exactly that, time after time, however with an invite to the 21st annual Garden Weekend event, this time I turned in through the gateway and allowed myself to be drawn down the long winding driveway into another world. 

  

The driveway ribbons through beautiful parkland with veteran trees and roaming deer, possibly unchanged in hundreds of years. Very soon, the rushing road is left far behind, out of view and rapidly drifting out of mind. Parham House comes into view as you drop downhill into an oasis of England’s green and pleasant land. The estate is cradled by the rolling downs, and from the house no sign of the outside world is visible, giving the place an air of peace, tranquillity and timelessness.
A morning which had started with mist, was now bright, and the yellow hued stone of the house with its white painted clock tower, reflected the summer sun. House Martins flittered in the blue sky, visiting their nests under the eaves of the roof. The house seemed to fit in the landscape as if the two had grown together from the same roots over time.

I had arrived in time for the official opening of the event, this year the ribbon-cutting was undertaken by Garden Designer Joe Swift (regular presenter on Gardeners’ World) with the humour and flair that seems part of his nature.

The event was already busy, with visitors eager to discover wonderful treats from the numerous plant nurseries and stalls attending. Some had come with specific target plants in mind, others meandered between the stands seeing what took their eye; none could resist the lure and excitement of a new variety, the fun and quirky, or an old familiar favourite that brought back childhood memories.



Their exclamations, chatter and laughter mingled with the music being played by Davison Worthing Youth Concert Band, and the sound of bees and grasshoppers to create the perfect soundtrack to the day, punctuated occasionally by the distant mewling of high soaring buzzards or the clatter of dragonfly wings overhead.

And the flowers were certainly putting on a show!

The wide borders were bursting with colour; hot pinks, brooding purples, deep blues, powerful magentas, rich reds and zesty yellows. Plants jostled for attention, each shouting their joy of being alive. I was struck by unusual planting combinations, each placed with skill to highlight and complement the subtleties of the other. Yellow fennel paraded alongside purple buddleia, white sneezeweed picked out the pale base of magenta geranium petals, dark centred oranges were paired with dark foliage. 




 Between all these energetic colours is a moment of calm. The orchard, recently restored after the effects of time, and storms had taken their toll, was quiet and peaceful. Young fruit trees are accompanied by older twisted specimens, their branches adorned with ripening fruit and bracelets of mistletoe. A sea of long golden grasses shifts below, tall enough to allow tassel seed heads to be winnowed by lazy fingers. 


A bench provides an opportunity to rest and reflect, and enjoy the atmosphere. Butterflies flit along the mown paths, leading you back to the colourful world of the flower borders, the stalls and of course the house.



There is a tradition at Parham, of fresh flower arrangements in each and every room open to the public. 
All these flowers come from the gardens, which are managed organically with plants chosen to provide the most colour, structure, scent or character that a flower can, a system led by Head Gardener Tom Brown. 

Each arrangement is beautiful; full and varied, with care taken to ensure the colour scheme perfectly fits the display’s location. By bringing a little of the garden inside the house, each room is filled with life and scent, and linked back to the view through the window. 

It was these window-views that most caught my eye, as each window was large and let sunlight stream into the room. 
Beyond was a quintessentially English landscape, each angle offering a picturesque satisfaction to the eye. 

(Speaking of eyes, I could not help but notice that each portrait appeared to have perfected the art of letting its gaze follow you around the room. I suppose after years of hanging around they’ve had plenty of time to practice!)  







Back outside in the sunshine, I was able to meet and chat with Lady Emma Barnard who lives at Parham with her family. It was Lady Emma’s Great-Grandparents who first opened the house to the public in 1948. As one of the first private houses to open its doors, this was a brave and pioneering move by the Pearson family, one considered at very least ‘odd’ by many of their peers. Lady Emma explained how her Great Grandparents had fallen in love with the place and brought it, not to gain the prestige of owning an estate, but simply because it made them happy.  The main drive behind the public opening, was a desire to share what they loved with other people, and that spirit continues today at Parham, through the efforts of Lady Emma. Wherever you go in the gardens, or in the house, it feels like a family home. Parham has a unique charm, partly due to being lived in and not a museum, partly to its timelessness, but mostly due to the feeling that a lot of love has been poured into every corner, petal and stone over the years. It is a happy place; not a place that makes you feel happy, but is happy.

As I left, the event was still bustling. I never made it to the tiny church to the south of the house, or to gaze over the lake in the pleasure grounds. I heard that on Sundays cricket matches play out on the pitch in the meadowland beyond the house. I get the impression that with these few hot summer hours, I may have only scratched the surface of what this House, Gardens and wider estate has to offer. A slow, long winding drive through the parkland prepared me to re-emerge into the outside world again, but I think perhaps I will carry a little of the Parham spirit with me. Until the next time I turn into that white gateway and follow the winding driveway down the hill, into one of the best-kept secrets of West Sussex.


Tom Brown (left), Joe Swift (Right Centre) and Lady Emma Barnard (right) with myself

To find out more about this quintessential English country house and its history, 
visit the Parham House and Garden website: http://www.parhaminsussex.co.uk/
Parham House and Gardens is open to the public: every Sunday & Bank Holiday Monday in April and October, and from May to September on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Sunday and Bank Holidays.
You can now even keep up to date on social media: twitter @Parhaminsussex and facebook.com/Parham-House-and-Gardens

The next event is Sunday 17th August – Grow Your Own Festival

Thursday, 10 July 2014

Simple Words

The Tragedy

You see these things on the news,
Between the union-strikes and the war-scape views.
It's always said to have happened yesterday,
In a grey and crowded city, far away,
Not here, not our town, not today. 
The interviewed always say the same:
"It really is such an awful shame.
It's a very quiet neighbourhood, 
We never expected it, who ever would?"
And so, dear unknown neighbour,
Passer by, familiar stranger.
What would you say now, to see this sight,
A gathering of flowers has formed overnight.
All in your memory, with thoughts from the heart,
For a life, a family, broken apart.
Let me tell you, the messages are kind,
And each with these simple words is signed:
Now your life has come to cease,
May you forever Rest In Peace.


Words and Photo © Copyright Sophie May Lewis

Tuesday, 8 July 2014

Into late summer

Under the midday sun, when the air is filled with insect song, it's easy to imagine that these endless summer days will last for ever. And yet all around is an undercurrent of feeling, signs that we try to ignore, of the continual march of time. 
The year is racing away into late summer. A high sun blazes from a clear sky; we can seek the shade but the trees and plants have to stand and bask in its heat. They know however that the hot hours will not in truth, stretch on for ever, but are now each day growing shorter. Many of those prized flowers that we sought and waited for when the year was young, are faded, gone. The grasses are tall, dry and topped with tassels of seed. In the hedgerows, the bindweed trumpets silently proclaim their strangling triumph, although some of their lower leaves are already yellowing and wilted from the drought. Hips and haws await the swelling rain. And rain will come, with its fanfare of thunder, to freshen the dusty leaves and refill the ditches above which dragonflies quarter. 
Between those leaves the smaller birds are keeping a low profile. Fledglings from early broods are learning the lessons of life, unaccompanied by their parents who are busily feeding new young mouths or moulting their tired summer plumage. 
But summer is not done yet! There is still time when school is closed or work finished, to skip or wander down green leafy lanes. Time to take a picnic on a grand adventure, scramble that hill to see over the horizon. Clouds of glittering midges throng in the sunniest places, each individual forming part if the larger movement, alternately shining and invisible as if made of light themselves; Perhaps after all, they are faeries the stories tell of. Butterflies flit in woodland glades, and the electric song of crickets and grasshoppers can be heard late into the evening on warm still days. By night, bats flicker on the edge of the dark sky, plucking dancing moths from the warm, scented air. 


Saturday, 28 June 2014

An accidental birdwatcher

This past year I have been busy; very busy. There’s been lots of traveling, lots of training courses and lots of time spent studying or in the office. Trains and training rooms, flipchart paper and computer screens seem to take over my days. My binoculars have bumped around in my bag in the boot of my car or in and out of the office, and are in need to some ‘t.l.c.’; primarily re-alignment work as they are now rebelling against their poor treatment and not quite focusing properly.
There has been little chance to venture out bird watching, certainly not as the primary reason for a trip. I have become an ‘accidental birdwatcher’ where I just bump into birds now and then, when busy doing something else. I did discover a Treecreeper’s nest, in a crevice in an old Scotts Pine on my local patch, and deliberately visited this patch determined to see my first swallows of the year. I stayed late after work one warm April evening to spend a glorious hour listening to Nightingales sing from dense cover, and watching Avocets feeding in reflective pools.
But other memorable, birding highlights of the last 12 months are few and far between.
A Hobby versus Peregrine punch up, over the streets of Winchester when shopping with the family one sunny afternoon last summer and Sand Martins swooping over teams of rowers on Bedford River and nesting in holes and drainage pipes in the concreted banks, seen whilst walking from train station to hotel.  The long-awaited return of the swifts to the skies above my hometown was noted by hearing their unmistakable screams whilst crossing the road to the library. The numerous families of goldfinches that keep emptying my feeders of sunflower hearts this spring are disturbed by my appearance at the back grate as I stumble in from a full day at work.











In June, I turned 22. Now this might not seem much of a milestone to many people. For me however, it marks the point where in career and opportunities terms, I have passed the age where I can use the novelty of ‘it’s so good to see a young person interested in nature’, to my advantage, and instead rank as a low-experienced adult with plenty of competition. It also marks the summer when current projects come to an end, and I have some important choices to make and some doors to tentatively open.
One of these doors is the one back into serious birding.
Birds had become such a part of my life; both work and play, I had started taking them perhaps a little for granted; they were part of the furniture. This does not mean I wasn’t watching birds or enjoying them. My days have been filled with them, and with butterflies, dragonflies, flowers, moths and all kinds of fascinations, that nature has to offer. I just wasn’t always looking for them as often as I could.

Now it is time to get those binoculars fixed, and stretch under-used walking muscles. To retune the eyes and the ears, to spy that movement amongst the pine needles and to pick up that high squeak that reveals the tiny Goldcrest, or spot that tiny soaring dot and the pouring song of the Skylark in sun-glare skies. Time to enjoy the summer migrants before they leave for their winter homes, and to get ready to welcome the delights blown here by autumn storms.