Permitted Walk 5/The Newt in Somerset – May 2020

Tags

Broad-bodied chaser, Coronavirus, Cyder, Gilles Guillot, Patrice Taravella, The Newt in Somerset, VE 75

When I bought my season ticket for The Newt in Somerset late in January, I had intended to go every month or so to see how things changed through the seasons. The month of May should have brought me to my third or fourth visit. However, in present circumstances, I had just assumed that it was not open now.  But a few days ago, something prompted me to look at their website. To my delight, I found that the gardens were open, but not the house. (Given that the house is a luxury hotel, charging at least £450 a night, this would be no great hardship to me.) No other buildings, including the gardening museum, were open either, except the farm shop. And the website informed me that they were limiting numbers of visitors.

Imagining, with a lessening of lockdown in the air, that shortly the place would become very popular, especially as they were not charging for entrance, and that I might have to queue unless I arrived early, I decided to be at the gate at opening time the very next morning. And so I did, after a bit of a drive, (permitted under the police guidance given a week or so previously that any driving for a walk must be less than the time taken walking). At 10 a.m. there were just 5 other cars in the car park and I had the vast place almost to myself for a while.

These trees were of course bare in January. The path from the car park leads up to the entrance

The temporary one-way system leads you through the barn-like entrance, whose glass sliding doors were fixed open both sides for maximum air circulation.

The meeter-and-greeter explained that they were (able to?) open because of the farm shop, so I felt obliged to patronise it (no hardship, wonderful stuff). Because she had said there was a one-way system, I bought things at the beginning of my walk, which put me under some pressure for the rest of my time there because I had bought some soft cheese. Having suffered food-poisoning a long time ago through something not being adequately refrigerated, I have been acutely concerned ever since not to repeat that experience. As a result, I did not spend as much time in the gardens as I would like, anxious to get my cheese home and into the fridge! (In the event it was still nicely chilled when it found its chilly refuge.)

Having shopped, I took a peek into the cactus house whose outsize plants had inspired me at the beginning of the year to compose – with the help of the expert who sold its elements to me and planted them – my own little windowsill cactus garden. (I knew that old unused casserole would come in useful sometime.)

Photo taken about a month ago

The cottage garden

As I stepped through the gap in the hedge into the Victorian Fragrance Garden – and I know these are emotional times – my eyes welled up at the sight before them. Hitherto, the supermarket had been the furthest I had ventured from home.

Seeing a socially distanced staff meeting going on brought amusement and dried my eyes. The woman is holding a laptop and apparently explaining things.

I didn’t go into the kitchen garden. I think I may have been being obsessively cautious, but it would have meant touching the gate catch. Which I could easily have done without risk, as I had my surgical spirit with me.

Wildlife area

Red campion

I next entered the vast Parabola, devoted to the apple, which alone contains 240 varieties, and there are more elsewhere.

Most of the blossom, as in my own garden, had disappeared, with some exceptions.

Water welling up constantly

Each area is named for a British (English? I must check next time) county. Decades ago I lived in a Somerset Walk, in Berkshire. Now I live in Somerset.

It was another French gardener, Patrice Taravella, who designed these gardens on behalf of the South African billionaire who bought Hapsden House (the hotel) and its grounds in 2013. Here is an informative 2019 article from the Financial Times.

I am not displeased with this photo of an immature male Broad-bodied chaser.

The café is shut of course.

I do hope that it is not just other priorities which have left this pretty intruder on the steps.

I assumed the drinking fountain had been turned off, though I would not have been tempted in present circumstances to accept the invitation to ‘Buvez-moi’

But no, it was foot pressure which activated it.

I left the Parabola (named for the shape of the walled apple garden) and found myself back near the entrance. But I did not want to leave before 11.00.

Shop staff and a couple of visitors awaiting the start of the two-minute silence for VE 75 Day. I was pleased to be in (very socially-distanced) company at that hour.

There is much, much more to see at The Newt. The parkland has yet to be opened at all, scheduled for ‘the summer’ but who knows now. There are other parts of the gardens and woodland I have not yet seen, and I hope that it will not be too long before the History of Gardening museum is re-opened, though it may be a while before, whatever the regulations at the time, I feel confident enough to go into any building unnecessarily. Perhaps that’s a pleasure for next year.

They had set up a temporary alternative exit to maintain the one-way system, which seemed to involve walking down the tradesmen’s drive. I diverted to take a peek at just a little woodland first.

The old marl pit.

Not a bad tradesman’s entrance/exit

Reminded me of the pencil gate at Millfield pre-prep that I had seen the day before.

The one-way system in action, as fresh visitors arrive on the parallel path in the distance.

That permitted walk really did my soul good! Back in a month or so’s time, all being well, and perhaps then I’ll buy some Newt cyder (sic) – but at the end of my walk.

“The Newt in Somerset” – January 2020

Tags

Cyder, Hadspen House, Hobhouse, Karen Roos, Koos Bekker, Museum of Gardening, Newt in Somerset, red deer, Stourhead, Tony Irons Cacti

Last November/October, when my friend Mary came down from London for the day, we had planned to visit The Newt in Somerset, but the weather was so appalling that we went to the Haynes International Motor Museum instead, and a fine time we had there too. This Sunday, the forecast being reasonable, I decided to try again, and take advantage of a promotion whereby I could get a year’s pass for the price of one entry.

Hadspen House (back history here, but not updated since 2007) was the home of the Hobhouse family from 1785 until recently. In 2013, South African billionaire, Koos Bekker and his wife Karen Roos bought the place, including its very extensive grounds, and reportedly spent £50 million pounds on refurbishing it. The complex now comprises a hotel (£350 B and B a night) the Gardens, a small farm, and a cyder (sic) plant. (The Newt’s website does not give the story of the conversion as such, but its The Press gives links to many articles, the most informative, in my view, being those of the Telegraph and the Financial Times. The other accounts seem destined more at those, including the international market, who might be interested in staying at the hotel.)

Having bought my ticket near the car park,

I was directed to the Threshing Barn for further information and the ticket’s conversion into ‘membership’. I saw a modern building, but am now confused as to whether this has just been modernised out of all recognition, or is indeed brand new. The same goes for some of the other buildings.

Looking back at Cyder Cellar, Cyder Bar, Threshing Barn, Shop

Coffee was the first requirement, being served in the Greenhouse, it being too chilly for the Cyder Bar to be open.

When I saw this, I was reminded of an idea I had had of putting together a bowl of cacti and succulents to go on my front and very sunny window ledge. I have realised that very thing today, with the help of a grower living near Bristol. I hope the tiny plants do not grow this big!

Over coffee I looked at the plan, and decided to look at the gardens, nearby, before lunch, then take a walk in the more extensive grounds afterwards.

But first a peek at the Mushroom room.

Began my stroll.

Cottage garden

Through to the Victorian Fragrance Garden

Apparently the squirts of water from fish to toad are set off by movement sensors. I didn’t know this, and nearly got a shower on my calf from a small toadlet on a stone by my left ankle as I moved off! So that’s what the blurb meant by, ‘be[ing] careful not to approach the Giant Toad and her children: they have vile tempers!’

Over to the Colour Garden, to be explored at a more colourful time

Hadspen House, via the Long Walk

The Kitchen Garden in January

Interesting to see Aponogeton (water hawthorn) in bloom. Mine hasn’t shown the slightest leaf yet.

And a water lily thinking about waking up.

There were many labels around the place, always in English, sometimes accompanied by translations into what seemed like random other languages.

Dog kennels turned chicken house

For all their splendour, tiny bantams both

The Garden Café, see through a corner of the Parabola, which contains most of the 500-odd apple varieties grown on the estate.

A few counties were set in stone. Good to see my own, Middlesex, which disappeared in the London government reorganisation of 1965.

Time for lunch. All the dishes, whether vegetarian or not, are named for one of the vegetables grown in the gardens. I had ‘Kale’.

And two kinds of bread and two kinds of butter

The view, through glass, from my seat. Far too cold to eat outside.

I finished with jasmine tea.

A heavy shower followed my lunch, and I thought I would soon be headed home, especially as every gate out to the parkland I had seen in the morning had been locked, and displayed a notice, ‘Parkland walks will be opening in the summer.’ But the rain stopped quickly and I found that a walk into the deer park, near the café, was open.

I soon came to this. Despite appearances to the contrary, the supports are firmly planted in the ground.

At the end of the walkway came this.

To begin with I thought, enviously, that it might be someone’s home. The building was on the plan, but without a label. A young employee emerged, so I asked him. It was the just-opened Museum of Gardening. And here was its door, just round the corner.

The young man asked if I’d seen the deer. I’d forgotten I might. He said I was unlikely now, as they would have departed way over there from their morning hangout near here.

The Museum is to be investigated another time. I went on.

The ball had hundreds of holes drilled, for bees I imagine.

Beyond here was a big gate, with some machinery beyond. I wasn’t sure that I was allowed, or indeed wanted to go on this time. A woman, of about my own age, was approaching from the other side. Did I want to come through? She could let me. I said I was not sure, was thinking of turning round at this point anyway. We chatted, as she clearly knew a lot about the estate. She also asked if I’d seen the deer. There were two herds, red and fallow, the latter very shy indeed. I was bold in my questioning, and found that she was a Hobhouse. My departing ‘Really lovely to have met you’ was heartfelt!

WAY over on the horizon is King Alfred’s Tower, part of the Stourhead estate.

Nearly back at the beginning of my walk, I saw this. On the way out I had assumed it was a bit of fencing due to be placed somewhere. But I now realised it was the top of the Museum of Gardening, a safety precaution!

Evidence I was in a deer park

I looked up, and was surprised to see these does springing up the bank.

They were joined by a buck.

And then by a big buck!

Who wanted me to see his antlers in all their glory!

I took a slightly different route, through some woodland, back to the courtyard.

The Marl Pit

The Cyder Cellar was not open, but I looked in.

The farm shop definitely was open, and I bought bread, tomatoes and beans.

I shall be returning before long, and plan to follow the gardens and grounds through the seasons. Next time I will get there by 10.30, so that I can do the Garden tour, and have some more questions answered. Another time I will do the Cyder tour.