Mother and I have not written our blog for some months, due in part to our sadness at Father’s death. Wesley, who has been at Cothay for many years, dug Father’s grave on the mount in the meadow, where he wanted to watch over us all.
Despite the cold spring, we feel at last the warmer days are around the corner. The lovely lily-flowered white triumpheter tulips have at last opened; they look spectacular, especially in the Walk of the Unicorn, where they seem to stretch unendingly under the Robinias, like a marching army of white angels.
The silver chain that links all parts of the garden is achieved by repeat planting, drawing the eye on and on. At this time of year it is in the thousands of tulips.
Today we planted the perennial sweet peas, which were sown in the autumn. Mother likes to have them throughout the garden, tumbling their lovely pale colours over shrubs and up and over structures. The darker shades of maroon and purple are set in the Bishop’s Garden, winding through the Vitachelii clematis.
As usual, we are caught between the seasons, the quest for perfection ever in our gardeners’ minds.