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ladyofastolat) wrote2021-08-18 10:37 am
ladyofastolat) wrote2021-08-18 10:37 am
Woolbeding Gardens
I didn't take as many pictures as usual on holiday, for various reasons (weather, shortage of comical lions etc) but looking at them now, I see that almost half of the pictures I did take were taken at the same place: Woolbeding Gardens. To reach these National Trust gardens one must engage in quite a Quest, since there's no parking at all at the site (except for pre-booked disabled spaces.) It's only open two days a week, and is strictly pre-bookings only, in which you book a 10 minute slot with very stern warnings that you Must Not Be Late. There's a free minibus from a car park in Midhurst, but since the Gardens were only about 5 miles from our cottage, we decided to walk. I mean, Galahad never took a courtesy minibus to take him to the Grail, did he?
Obviously, doing a 5 mile walk in unfamiliar terrain to reach a strict 10 minute time slot is not really advised. But Midhurst was en route, with many eating options, so we decided to walk to Midhurst in the morning, have lunch outside the tea room on the Cowdray Estate, then, depending on how long lunch took, walk either 1 mile along a lane or 2 miles along the river to our destination. We took the river route in the end, and arrived right on the dot of our arrival slot, much to the surprise of the person at the ticket booth, since the minibus for our time slot hadn't yet arrived. "How did you get here?" she asked in astonishment, as if we'd arrived by magic.
Anyway, to the gardens.
They're modern gardens, mostly designed within the last few decades in the grounds of a manor house (not open to the public) and are a delightful maze of random statues, quirky seats in pretty views, and... oh, and plants, I suppose.
Here is a water feature called William Pye. We could find no explanation at all of why this water feature was called William Pye. As far as we knew, water features didn't have names - or, if they did, they would probably be called things like "The mighty squirter" or "the river god's sneeze" or something. Mind you, I've often remarked on the fact that nowadays, many cats and dogs have "human names", whereas "in the past" this didn't seem to happen so much, so maybe it's the same with water features? Maybe nowadays water features are all called things like Cyril Blenkinsopp or Brad or Shane.
But, sadly, it seems not. William Pye is apparently the chap who made it, and is a famous creator of water features, and the fact that I'd never heard of him shows that I am a hignorant philistine and probably not deserving of my National Trust life membership. :-(
Anyway. Pretty, though. And I still fancy a water feature called Brad.
Then to the walled garden, all neatly divided into "rooms," each one with a very different character. There was a herb garden, with colour-coded beds. A vegetable garden intriguingly promised "an ornamental potager made up of 1200 lettuces that surround a Topiary Box Swan" but I think the lettuces must have been eaten, and the swan looked a little melted. An enticing orangery overlooked a sunny swimming pool.
(Bad picture, I'm afraid, but I liked the view so am still including it)
The pool was patrolled by an undead sea monster, who wandered around, lashing its skeletal tail. It occasionally bumped into walls and got confused for a while, but sorted itself out in the end and resumed its patrolling.
In the aptly-named Founatin Garden there was... guess what? A fountain! Its inhabitants REALLY disliked their jobs, spitting out water with extreme bad grace.
Outside the formal gardens, we walked across lawns towards a kissing gate that led across fields to the distinctly less formal part of the gardens. Along the way, we passed within sight of the very impressive glass house which is being prepared for opening next year, although I forgot to photograph it. Looking rather like a giant cut diamond, the internet tells me that it will be "a kinetic glasshouse featuring structural petals that can open and close."
And now for the really exciting bit: a twisting trail through the woods positively littered with interesting and quirky follies and random statues.
A hermit's hut...
...with a wonderful slate floor.
Gnarly path down to a Chinese bridge across the pond.
Gothic summer house, with added river god. Because all gardens need their own river god.
Arranged in a circle around a Quite Obviously Ritual pillar of stone, we found statutes depicting the four seasons. We did this once in a computer game! It was exactly the same! If I remember correctly, we had to cast a fireball at winter, cast ice storm at summer, and so on, until the pillar in the middle Did Something (can't remember what.) Sadly, we'd left our spell books at home, so the pillar of stone remained inert.
Chilly winter.
Random geese menacing random goat.
Absolutely everything throughout the entire garden there were interesting benches, chairs and benches. Every one was different, and every one was enticing. There were miniature table-and-chair settings sized for hobbits. There were flowing wooden chairs and stone benches and seats patterned with shells or woodcarving or slate. Here is a table ready and waiting for a Council of Elrond (operating with a reduced capacity due to social distancing rules)
Gnarly trees, or maybe ents.
A hornbeam tunnel guarded by lions who have had a horrible row and wish they were a million miles apart.
I'm the king of the jungle, get me out of here!
Random elephant, found lurking next to a greenhouse, for no apparent reason.
Weird plant in a greenhouse. No idea what it is.
As you can tell, I thought Woolbeding Gardens were wonderful! The only problem was that we'd booked a 2.15 arrival slot and it closed at 4.30. I could happily have spent most of the day wandering from enticing seat to enticing seat, sitting down and admiring the view and the random statuery.
Obviously, doing a 5 mile walk in unfamiliar terrain to reach a strict 10 minute time slot is not really advised. But Midhurst was en route, with many eating options, so we decided to walk to Midhurst in the morning, have lunch outside the tea room on the Cowdray Estate, then, depending on how long lunch took, walk either 1 mile along a lane or 2 miles along the river to our destination. We took the river route in the end, and arrived right on the dot of our arrival slot, much to the surprise of the person at the ticket booth, since the minibus for our time slot hadn't yet arrived. "How did you get here?" she asked in astonishment, as if we'd arrived by magic.
Anyway, to the gardens.
They're modern gardens, mostly designed within the last few decades in the grounds of a manor house (not open to the public) and are a delightful maze of random statues, quirky seats in pretty views, and... oh, and plants, I suppose.
Here is a water feature called William Pye. We could find no explanation at all of why this water feature was called William Pye. As far as we knew, water features didn't have names - or, if they did, they would probably be called things like "The mighty squirter" or "the river god's sneeze" or something. Mind you, I've often remarked on the fact that nowadays, many cats and dogs have "human names", whereas "in the past" this didn't seem to happen so much, so maybe it's the same with water features? Maybe nowadays water features are all called things like Cyril Blenkinsopp or Brad or Shane.
But, sadly, it seems not. William Pye is apparently the chap who made it, and is a famous creator of water features, and the fact that I'd never heard of him shows that I am a hignorant philistine and probably not deserving of my National Trust life membership. :-(
Anyway. Pretty, though. And I still fancy a water feature called Brad.
Then to the walled garden, all neatly divided into "rooms," each one with a very different character. There was a herb garden, with colour-coded beds. A vegetable garden intriguingly promised "an ornamental potager made up of 1200 lettuces that surround a Topiary Box Swan" but I think the lettuces must have been eaten, and the swan looked a little melted. An enticing orangery overlooked a sunny swimming pool.
(Bad picture, I'm afraid, but I liked the view so am still including it)
The pool was patrolled by an undead sea monster, who wandered around, lashing its skeletal tail. It occasionally bumped into walls and got confused for a while, but sorted itself out in the end and resumed its patrolling.
In the aptly-named Founatin Garden there was... guess what? A fountain! Its inhabitants REALLY disliked their jobs, spitting out water with extreme bad grace.
Outside the formal gardens, we walked across lawns towards a kissing gate that led across fields to the distinctly less formal part of the gardens. Along the way, we passed within sight of the very impressive glass house which is being prepared for opening next year, although I forgot to photograph it. Looking rather like a giant cut diamond, the internet tells me that it will be "a kinetic glasshouse featuring structural petals that can open and close."
And now for the really exciting bit: a twisting trail through the woods positively littered with interesting and quirky follies and random statues.
A hermit's hut...
...with a wonderful slate floor.
Gnarly path down to a Chinese bridge across the pond.
Gothic summer house, with added river god. Because all gardens need their own river god.
Arranged in a circle around a Quite Obviously Ritual pillar of stone, we found statutes depicting the four seasons. We did this once in a computer game! It was exactly the same! If I remember correctly, we had to cast a fireball at winter, cast ice storm at summer, and so on, until the pillar in the middle Did Something (can't remember what.) Sadly, we'd left our spell books at home, so the pillar of stone remained inert.
Chilly winter.
Random geese menacing random goat.
Absolutely everything throughout the entire garden there were interesting benches, chairs and benches. Every one was different, and every one was enticing. There were miniature table-and-chair settings sized for hobbits. There were flowing wooden chairs and stone benches and seats patterned with shells or woodcarving or slate. Here is a table ready and waiting for a Council of Elrond (operating with a reduced capacity due to social distancing rules)
Gnarly trees, or maybe ents.
A hornbeam tunnel guarded by lions who have had a horrible row and wish they were a million miles apart.
I'm the king of the jungle, get me out of here!
Random elephant, found lurking next to a greenhouse, for no apparent reason.
Weird plant in a greenhouse. No idea what it is.
As you can tell, I thought Woolbeding Gardens were wonderful! The only problem was that we'd booked a 2.15 arrival slot and it closed at 4.30. I could happily have spent most of the day wandering from enticing seat to enticing seat, sitting down and admiring the view and the random statuery.
no subject
Looking at the NT website, it looks as if the gardens were developed *after* the estate was given to the Trust, which is interesting.
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My only complaint, really, is that I'd have liked some more information about their history and development. There was no guidebook (or if there was, I failed to notice it) and the free leaflet was mostly map.
no subject
no subject