Spring at Sizergh
Why do we return so often to places we know well? Surely the greatest thrill lies in novelty, in seeing something for the first time?
And yet a familiar garden has something a new one cannot offer. When you have seen it in every season, you never visit it only in the present moment. You see it not only with your eyes, but with your memory. Imagination can do a great deal, of course, but it is not quite the same thing.
I am reminded of Wordsworth’s famous poem about daffodils, and of the phrase “the inward eye”.
That is what I use when revisiting a garden: seeing it in all seasons, not just the present one.
So when I found myself in Cumbria in March, after a long winter of studying, the first bright sunny day took me to Sizergh Castle, near Kendal.
I needed spring flowers. I wanted some sign that winter was loosening its grip, that longer days lay ahead and that familiar flowers were blooming once again. Gardens are a wonderful reminder that continuity and change can co-exist in the same place and that both are part of its beauty.
In true Wordsworthian spirit, the daffodils are the stars at this time of year. Banks and banks of them, stretching down to the water, hiding in woodland, popping up in unexpected crannies. Their boldness never fails to lift my spirits; it is almost as though they are saying, “I’ve arrived — and the sun will too.”
In summer, I always walk to the far side of the Mirror Pond to see the castle reflected in the still water. In early spring that is not yet possible, because the grass is too wet underfoot. Instead, there is the quieter pleasure of seeing the stark branches of trees and shrubs mirrored at the water’s edge.
The Rock Garden is one of the stars at Sizergh. The photo below is from this visit in March.
Built in the early twentieth century out of limestone pavement by Hayes of Ambleside, it has long been regarded as one of the finest rock gardens of its kind. Limestone pavement is now, thankfully, protected, so no new garden could be created in quite the same way. Built into a natural bowl, the garden is crossed by little bridges over a stream that broadens into ponds. On a dry day they are fun to cross, though treacherous when wet.
Standing on the upper path in March, I was not seeing the Rock Garden only as it was, with bare branches and early colour. I was also remembering it in a blaze of reds, golds and fiery orange tones. The acers are far from being only an autumn attraction. From April onwards their fresh leaves and graceful shapes play against the silvery limestone, carrying colour for much of the year. The photo below is from April 20th, 2024 - just one month later than the photo above.
But on this visit I was here for spring flowers: hellebores, primulas, blossom and of course the daffodils. Flowers are one of our clearest reminders of seasonality. We have largely forgotten this with food, expecting strawberries all year round instead of waiting for the particular pleasure of local ones in June and July. With flowers, we have not quite reached that point. I love hellebores and part of that love lies in their brevity. I am glad that I see them only in winter and spring. Their season is part of what makes them special.
