Well, largely because I wanted to garden in a mild climate with fertile soil in which I could grow acid-loving plants. My longsuffering wife pleaded caution, but eventually acquiesced: she likes camellias. And almost all our married life had been spent in areas of chalk upland.
I grew up in a woodland garden, where we planted rhododendrons, azaleas, camellias and all those funny ericaceous shrubs that no one notices unless they’re in flower. It was a joy to have nine acres of French woodland into which to introduce rare trees and shrubs, plus three acres of ancient cider-apple orchard where we could grow roses—we ended up with more than 1,000. What’s more, blue hydrangeas and blue Meconopsis poppies were possible for the first and last time in my horticultural life.
Most Brits in France live further south, in wine-growing areas such as Vaucluse, Charente-Maritime and the Dordogne, so why did we choose the Cherbourg peninsula? Two reasons: first, I hate hot summers and cold winters, but am happy in wind and rain; plus you can’t grow Rhododendron macabeanum south of Caen. Second, the fastest ferries to England run from Cherbourg, so we could have breakfast in Hampshire and lunch in the Cotentin.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der June 17, 2020-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der June 17, 2020-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
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Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
