This is Stella McCartney's garden, as featured in Vogue
I find myself longing for the hedgerows to stir. Don't get me wrong, they are very noisy with chirruping and chirping, each morning the birdsong volume increases a notch as they are beginning to resume residence. As yet though there is very little sign of soft furnishings! I do love the sparse winter landscape, the structure of familiar trees and hedgerows revealed and the muted palette...But there comes a moment, like now, when you begin to sense that perhaps sap is rising and buds will unfurl. Yes, I want to find the hedgerows white again but this time with the froth of cow parsley.
I have been thinking intently about and watching this garden, unfamiliar still. Oh! there are drifts of snowdrops in the orchard and crocus self sown in the gravel on the drive and daffodils pushing up in clumps around all the large trees. Someone once really loved this garden and so I watch and think about what I might improve whilst celebrating daily discoveries.
Gardens have been created to celebrate love for centuries and I am inspired by Stella McCartney's Anniversary Garden, created for her by her husband.
It really is stunning isn't it? If you have time check out the whole gallery at Vogue's website here
Image on left from bforbonnie, image on right vintage "Cottage Garden" fabric by Collier Campbell
I really admire the colour combinations, especially the purple leafed cherry plum as a backdrop for cow parsley, (my favourite - we were married in May and the church was festooned in balls of it!) purple hued sweet rocket and tall grasses.
Ostara swing by Myburgh Designs
When I win the lottery I am planning to sit in this copper swing seat and look out across the Weald!
In the meantime I am besotted by the writing and engravings of Clare Leighton in her book "Four Hedges". She writes...
" spring seems to come suddenly. We have weeks of frost, when the earth resists all efforts to move it, and ice lies thick on the water butts in the midday sun, and birds gather at the kitchen window for food. But one day we turn to one another and say that spring has come. We can almost imagine that we know the exact half hour of its arrival, as though it were a visible guest."
And so I watch and I wait...