Goddards is the kind of garden where you want to relax in the sunshine with a good book, or waft around in a long dress, with a parasol. There were various little nooks to settle in.
Narrow, secretive paths led you off on winding tracks through the various areas of the garden. Towards the bottom were several linked ponds although, with the dry weather, they were rather silted up with algae and dust.
As well as roses in bloom, there were peonies, such blowsy, extravagant flowers.
Foxgloves thrived in the wilder areas.
There was spiky sea holly (eryngium), though not as silvery as that at Harlow Carr.
Even the fallen petals of a climbing rose seemed rather pretty: nature's confetti.
Did the Terry family have children? This garden is the kind that I imagine when I read Edith Nesbit's books, when the children are left to roam freely and come up with all kinds of wonderful games - and sometimes magic - in the garden.
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