THE biography of a hedge begins with its birth and whether this is dewy new or cobbled together. The first sort is the planted arboreal line; the other, a shrubby, scrubby barrier fashioned from pre-existing woodland. The hedge down the track to the house is the former—its hawthorns and blackthorns are as regular as teeth on a comb, evidence of a farmer planting by script.
According to biologist Dr Max Hooper’s famous formula, the age of a hedge = number of woody species in a 30-yard stretch x 110 + 30. Thus, the long and winding trackside hedge is about 600 years old, its staple of prickly trees intended to keep Tudor livestock in their place. Behind barbs, as it were. Time has augmented the hedge with dogwood, hazel, oak and field maple.
I suppose, for most of its life, the hedge was trimmed annually,so you could pop over it out hunting. Then, about 30 years ago, a 100-yard section was left to go absolutely wild, but with good reason. The hay barn opposite (a Brutalist grey, girder and sheet-metal affair) was, in some unfathomable exigency, constructed with its entrance to the west. Yes, the west, which brings the rains of all the known world. Eventually, to keep the wet off the hay, the facing hedge was allowed to grow up. And up.
Denne historien er fra July 22, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent ? Logg på
Denne historien er fra July 22, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
