Rose garden

I do love an old-fashioned rose garden. The roses at Goddards were in peak bloom and very pretty, with the most wonderful, delicate scent. It's a real pity we can't do smell-o-vision on our blogs as it would be delightful to share with you.  

This seems an appropriate post for what would have been my mum's 98th birthday. She loved roses too.

Goddards

Goddards is a National Trust property in York, an Arts and Crafts house built in 1927 for Noel and Kathleen Terry, who owned the Terry's chocolate factory (famed for their yummy chocolate oranges, which have been a staple in my family's Christmas stockings for years). The house is, sadly, not open to the public as it is used as offices for the National Trust. The gardens, designed by George Dillistone, who worked with Lutyens, are open during the summer months. I've been meaning to go for ages, and arranged to meet a friend there recently. It was a warm, bright day, pleasant for strolling and enjoying drinks on the terrace even if not ideal for photographing the gardens, which really needed soft, diffused light. 

As with most Arts and Crafts era gardens, it's arranged in a series of 'rooms' separated by hedges and shrubs. It has a terrace, formal lawns and planting around the house, herbaceous borders, a tennis court, a croquet lawn, a greenhouse and a series of ponds and rockeries, the gardens growing progressively less formal and wilder as you move further away from the house. 

Beyond the orchard, the gardens look over the Knavesmire, York's racecourse.  I include the photo below mainly because it amuses me to remember a time when my daughter was a few weeks old. We were invited to a wedding reception in the racecourse grandstand building. I asked if there was anywhere I could discreetly breastfeed... and was conducted to a hospitality box with an enormous picture window overlooking the racecourse! Thankfully it wasn't a race day so there was no-one peeping in! 

Stepping out

Salts Mill sits lower than the road, which is on a hill anyway and rises to cross the adjacent railway line. It necessitates a flight of stone steps from the mill yard up to the road. The first small flight splits into two and it's noticeable that the steps to the left (below) are rather more heavily worn than those to the right (shown above). Indeed, some of them have been repaired over the years. I suppose it indicates that many more people - mill workers over the years and today's visitors - have come and gone in the direction of the village rather than the canal and park. I suppose that's hardly surprising. There is something about the steps that bids me to pause and think about all the millions of feet that have trudged up and down in the nearly 175 or so years since the steps were built. If only stones could talk.... 

Wild Uplands #3

Here's my own 'take' on the 'Wild Uplands' above Haworth. Honestly, who needs artworks when you have all this beauty? There are layers and folds in the landscape, gradually assuming a purplish hue as the heather starts to bud. 

Tumbled chunks of gritstone lie in the hollows, felled by some unseen force. Ferns push their way resolutely upwards through the thin soil.

The moors that the Brontë sisters trod are gradually being tamed. The heather, once prevalent, is gradually dying back as grass, bracken and bilberries march across the land. 

In the far distance on the mid-right in the photo below, you can perhaps just discern the ruined farmhouse and the lone tree at Top Withens, reputedly an inspiration for Emily Brontë's 'Wuthering Heights'. (See HERE for more detail.) 

Lower Laithe Reservoir (below), like all our watercourses, is somewhat low in water due to our very dry spring weather. 

As I was exploring, I stumbled - almost literally - across another artwork, this time rather older. It consisted of various embedded stones carved to look like books. It's entitled 'Literary Landscape' by Martin Heron and was installed in 2003. There are apparently ten of these sandstone carvings scattered across the moorland, the books not titled, but prompting us to recall our own favourite 'literary landscapes'. Gradually the moor is reclaiming them so they look 'planted' in the soil.  

Wild Uplands #2

The third sculptural installation on Penistone Hill, above Haworth, was '99 Butterflies' by Meherunnisa Asad, Studio Lél. I didn't count if there were 99 but they were certainly butterflies, created from a material that looked like marble, in different colours and textures, all pressed together in the manner of marquetry. (I think it was all natural stone rather than paint.) In themselves, each piece was really beautiful. It says the work was 'inspired by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish’s haunting question: 'Where will we go after the last frontiers? Where will the birds fly after the last sky?' The work explores displacement, sanctuary and longing.'

I thought it 'nice' rather than breathtaking.  I wanted them all to be facing the same way and to look as though they might be somehow rising up to fly.  As it was, they looked to me a bit scrappy and disjointed. 

Finally I came to 'Muamba Posy' by Vanessa da Silva, 'a series of interactive sculptures that reflect on the ever-changing cycles of nature on Penistone Hill, where life has adapted and transformed over time. Each sculpture invites us to explore the connections between sculpture, the human body and the natural world. They draw on this landscape’s long-distant past – some 300 million years ago, when Penistone Hill was a tropical paradise. The sculptures evoke the oversized plants and vibrant wildlife that once thrived here, while also taking inspiration from heather, bilberries, tomentils, damselflies and other plants and creatures that define this landscape today. '

Well, they were colourful and fun, quite appealing for children perhaps but, again, seemed totally incongruous in this setting. I'd have preferred to see them in an ordinary town park. 

So, not my favourite of the City of Culture offerings but I'm glad I went to see them and I'm glad these bold ventures are being commissioned. It's good to be pushed a bit outside your comfort zone. 

 

Wild Uplands #1

One bright, dry but windy day, I decided the time had come to visit the moorland above Haworth to see a series of sculptures exhibited as part of the Bradford City of Culture. Four artists have been invited to create site-specific artworks, 'taking inspiration both from this natural landscape and from our shared industrial heritage; from true stories and imagined fables; and from the history of this countryside and its potential future in light of the climate crisis.' Wild Uplands also includes Earth and Sky, an immersive sound walk created with Opera North that people can listen to as they explore the landscape - though of course (deaf) I wasn't able to enjoy that.  Maybe I would have appreciated it all more had I been able to. 

I could just about relate to 'Tower' by Steve Messam. This is a monumental work, clad in raw sheep fleece from local breeds, that obviously references the wool textile heritage of Bradford. It had some resonance with the bales of hay that you might at one time have seen in the fields (nowadays shrink-wrapped in plastic!), with the outcrops of gritstone that rise through the moors, and perhaps with the follies and monuments that dot our landscape. 

But then I came to 'The Children of Smokeless Fire' by Monira Al Qadiri - and here, I'm afraid, she lost me. It says it is 'a work of mystery and magic with two distinct inspirations: the famous ‘Cottingley Fairies’, created by two Bradford girls in 1917, and the Djinns, mythical beings depicted in a 13th-century Islamic manuscript by Zakariya al-Qazwini.'  No doubt there's a cultural barrier for me but I couldn't feel the link to this wild moorland, even though it is famous as a result of the writings of the Brontë sisters' novels, equally mythical stories in a way. They just looked totally incongruous in this setting, though I could perhaps have warmed to them more had they been in a town park. 

Never mind. I don't have to like all the art I see and not liking the art didn't spoil a good, breezy yomp around the moor! 

A stand-out local garden

It was the annual Shipley Open Gardens event last weekend, when local residents open their beautiful gardens to raise money for charity. I had a wander round a few of the nearest ones. I always enjoy looking round gardens, as you know, though I'm a hopeless gardener myself. It was a bright, breezy day, though luckily I only got caught in one short, sharp shower.  

Of those I saw, this one pictured here was my stand-out favourite. It wasn't very big but the owners had really made the most of it, and it had the feel of a country cottage garden, despite being decidedly suburban and surrounded by other houses. It had some beautiful roses, foxgloves, clematis and all manner of smaller, pretty little pops of colour. The colour choices were, I thought, very well judged, with silvery and darker foliage among the various green plants, which gave depth and variety in the borders. 

Bold choices in the seating were unexpected but made stunning focal points. The backdrop of stone walls, painted sheds and coloured fencing added to the country feel. They'd even found space for a couple of raised beds for growing vegetables. What a delight it all was. 

Underwater?

Walking past Salts Mill to the main entrance, I noticed the windows have been lined with some kind of clear film, perhaps to insulate them or to block UV light from spoiling the artworks inside. I can't say I've noticed it on the inside but from outside you can see that it has not adhered uniformly and there are lots of streaks and bubbles. I became fascinated by them and took lots of photos. They gave me the impression of an underwater scene, with weeds and fronds drifting.

Back home, I've been playing with them to create collages. It's a very absorbing pastime, rather addictive! 

Harlow Carr round up

The Edwardian Garden at Harlow Carr is dominated by topiary, roses and a formal pond, full of waterlilies that were just coming into bloom. On such a bright day, the contrast between dark and light was hard work for my camera to cope with. 

Of course, I had to stop by the old red table and chairs. The seasonal planting around means I get a different photo every time.  

An elevated view over the main borders shows how they have been digging up and replanting this area. The new scheme won't really come to fruition until late summer next year.

Stars of the show at this time of year are the candelabra primulas that grow near the streams and ponds and come in all sorts of colours. Here, they had a backdrop of pretty blue irises. 

The other signature plant is the blue poppy or meconopsis, difficult to grow as they prefer shaded and damp conditions. 

Up in the kitchen garden, big red poppies made rather a patriotic tableau, mixed with various blue and white flowers.  

Ah, definitely one of my happy places! 

Alpines and colour

The extensive area of limestone rockery beside the Alpine House is a fairly new feature and looked rather pretty with lots of little pops of colour among the grey, like a tapestry. Some of those plants and the more delicate alpines are also on show in the glasshouse itself, where you can get up close and marvel at the intricacy of these species. 

I was delighted to see some of the cacti in bloom. The pincushion cactus above seemed aptly named. I can't remember what those below are called but aren't they cute? Like tiny birds nestling there. (The surrounding gravel is the same size as in the picture above... I got close in with my macro lens. These were really miniature specimens.) 

Elsewhere in the garden, I always love the imaginative colour combinations they manage to achieve by careful placing of different plants. The soft blue-green of the new shoots on a conifer looked amazing against the maroon/mulberry coloured leaves of the acer behind. 

The russet foliage of another acer, with the light behind it, was breathtaking against the soft green backdrop. It was such a bright day that I could have done with a polariser on my lens to cut down the glare, but I don't have one that fits my new pocket camera. 

Purple in paradise

Much as it is one of my favourite places, I have decided this year not to continue my annual membership at RHS Harlow Carr Gardens. They have put the cost up by a whopping 13% - and, to add insult to injury, new members can join with a saving of 25%, which seems to penalise loyalty. Members do get a number of 'add-ons': free entry to any of the five RHS gardens and some partner gardens, plus a magazine, gardening advice and such like, but in practice I don't make use of those. All the other gardens are miles away. So I've decided I can't justify the cost this year. I'm a bit sad about it, as I like to support the organisation, but I will still be able to visit the gardens occasionally, just paying the daily entrance fee. For the number of times I'm able to go over the year, it should be more economical. 

Anyway, before my membership ran out, I went over there with a friend to enjoy the Gardens once more. It has all grown rapidly since my last visit at the end of April, when all the spring bulbs were in flower.  Recent rain means the foliage is lush and grasses and ferns have sprung up.  My all-time favourite patch was looking gorgeous, the mauves of the alliums and lavender set off by the soft grasses and the prickly silver eryngium (sea holly). I thought it deserved a post by itself but I'll post some more photos of the gardens tomorrow. 

 

The essence of Saltaire

Having lived here for over 25 years, I feel I know Saltaire pretty intimately. There are aspects of it that just scream 'Saltaire' to me and I think I'd recognise them wherever they cropped up. One such 'icon' is the iron railings along Victoria Road and Albert Terrace, which have arched mouldings. Another is the arched windows, both in the houses and in Salts Mill. A third is the original, ornate lamp-posts, once gas powered and now electric (though the Council in its wisdom is adding more modern LED streetlamps, not necessarily an aesthetic improvement!). The whole of the village and the Mill, although built over a span of about fifteen years in the mid-1800s, was designed by the same architects, Lockwood and Mawson. There is an overall cohesiveness to it, which is one of the reasons it is so celebrated and protected as a World Heritage Site. 

I have started a small project to try and capture some of these aspects in a creative way. Here's an example. 

Sealed Knot members

Here are a few more photos of members of the Newcastle's Foote Regiment of the Sealed Knot Society, bringing history to life at Bolling Hall. (See also yesterday's post). 

I've always found what they do to be interesting. Years ago, around 1970, when the Sealed Knot was relatively new, I went to Wollaton Hall near Nottingham where there were hundreds of them staging a re-enactment of a Civil War battle, with horses and weapons and lots of noise! It was all rather exciting and I wanted to be a Royalist (Cavalier) lady, flouncing around in a long dress! Sadly the pressures of university meant that stayed as a pipe dream.

There doesn't seem so much flouncing around these days, but the members give an interesting and authentic glimpse into bygone days, and have a wealth of knowledge to share about life in those times.