Travel is So Broadening- Part II

Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion about everything - except itself.  ~
May Sarton, Plant Dreaming Deep, 1968


I don't go anywhere without looking for gardens. Of course I have a list of too many to possibly see in the time I have. Of course I push to see as many as possible. Sometimes the very best experiences are in gardens that aren't even on the lists. But I have never visited a garden without learning something. And even as I learn more and more, I realize how much more there to absorb, in both heart and mind.

I was so fortunate to have the chance to tour with it's owner the very best conifer garden I will ever see . This is a private garden outside of Leeds that is the labor of love for David Ward. You'll see pictures of his garden in Adrian Bloom's book Gardening with Conifers, and in other gardening publications. You can see photos here that will give you some idea of the scope of plant material there is to absorb and to process. But let me tell you, as amazing as this garden is, the best lessons are in the heart of the gardener, not in the plans or plants.

David Ward is an unassuming, even modest, man. His goal in gardening is not to impress, but to explore and enjoy. He reads all he can find about conifers, and imagines ways to procure those selections that strike his fancy. Or, as he describes with a twinkle in his eye:  "I've got to have that one". Part of the adventure is actually getting his hands on the plant itself. Next is to find the perfect spot for his new baby. From then on, it's a matter of lovingly cultivating to settle his new selection in, while carefully watching it's progress, and waiting for the next "gotta have". In a garden that is an acre absolutely packed with specimen conifers and companions, this is a dizzying task that he accomplishes with great relish and humility. Clearly, he has achieved a "sense of proportion" about his garden and about himself. I feel honored to have visited the garden and the man with such balanced perspective.

No two gardens are the same.  No two days are the same in one garden.  ~Hugh Johnson

I also like to visit the same gardens over and over. It is hard for me to pile on one new garden after another without getting overloaded and almost numbed by the experience. One of my favorite gardens is at Scampston Hall Walled Garden in Yorkshire near Malton. http://www.scampston.co.uk/ This is an old walled garden that was restored and redesigned by Piet Oudolf in 2000. This is the only Oudolf garden I have ever seen, but in visiting in 2007 and revisiting this year, I have confirmed the skills of the designer, and also filtered through some of the  intricacies of the concepts as the garden grows and matures.

Waves of flowers, waves of grasses, waves of yew hedges, perennials, fruits and berries spill out onto the formal paths and into my memory. Contrasts of color, shape, texture, formality and mood are reflected in every facet of the garden. Although I certainly relish the opportunity to have visited twice, I selfishly wish I could watch its evolution every day of the year.

Maybe then I could begin to appreciate the genius of the designer, and actually see his imagination grow into the true proportions of the garden. Or maybe it's just an excuse to come back.

Travel is So Broadening...Part I

“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is 

to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, 

to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” –

 Bill Bryson

It's good to get away. I mean really away. Away from phones and email; away from laundry and grass cutting; away from television, radio, the mail, the bank, the bills.

It takes a while to really get away. You can fly 3000 miles from home, but it takes the accumulation of seconds and minutes and hours to knock all those attention grabbers out from the front of your brain. 

This September we flew to Manchester, England to visit the Yorkshire Dales. We've been there many times. I can't seem to get enough. Am I just an unadventurous traveler afraid of a foreign language, or is there something that draws me back there over and over?

 I've been thinking about what lures me back to Swaledale 
time after time.....

or maybe I am just a reincarnated ewe with a pretty good biological memory.

It's not enough to just turn all that regular stuff off. The deprivation is almost painful, and certainly distracting in itself. What I need is scenery that wipes all the dusty corners of my brain clean.  The views there are warm, lush, green, inviting, stark, wild, primitive, huge, ancient. This land is bigger than everything I know. It takes hold and pulls all the insignificant clutter out my life, and 

leaves me fresh, raw, and hypersensitive.

 
Here it is all about light, color, shape and substance. Wind, sun, and rain add to the sensuality of the experience. Suddenly, we are quiet, full, almost exploding. So much to take in and nowhere for our shuttered brains to put it. But staying in that landscape, walking, driving, staring out the window slowly opens it all up-like a shot of  inhaler for asthma- constricted lungs.
The longer I can be there, the more I see, the easier I breathe, the more in touch I feel. That touch is, of course, with the natural world around me. 

But it carries over to the touch of my husband's hand on my back, or a first frothy sip of an English cask ale on my upper lip, the lilt and plod of a Dales accent in my ears while eavesdropping on tall tales at the pub, 

and the crisp delicate flesh of a fresh caught haddock and chips on my tongue. 

Even mushy peas can taste good at times like these.  

The aim is always to see and do, 

to rest and relax, to let go.

But it is not a given. It is that opening up that is the "away", 
and makes the rest of the reward of travel possible.