kid in a candy shop that was going to be let loose . . . . . to wander and explore all of the goodies that awaited me!
Mr. Potts, age 85, talking about his pride and his joy,
a cottage garden that started with just a vision, 35 years
ago.
Jennifer and Mary Anne personally meet Mr. Potts. .
The forever magical mixture of mossy stone, ivy and miniature
Cyclamen. ( We saw these at garden shops all over England.)
These Cyclamen are much smaller than the ones we are
use to.
Yews so proudly holding their shape without a leaf out
of place . . . . it was a lesson in precision. The largest Yew..... a walk-
through to another garden.
A rose trellis still managing to bloom. . . fall was beginning
its magic in this garden.
Magical, romantic and restful.
Looking in . . . .
The home of Mr. Potts. . . . and I would say the epitome
of an English garden. It was a feast for the eyes and in
every sense of the word, the soul. There was color and beauty
everywhere the eyes could see.
Mr. Potts private home. . . . and he offered us a look!
Acanthus, so established and at home in the purple garden.
A refreshing bit of color amongst stone and moss.
More YEWS AND BOX. . . .the term yews and box, a Brit
sort of expression was used frequently to describe garden
contents of the same and every garden we visited had them.
The sounds of birds were everywhere and dear Mr. Potts
provided homes for them everywhere as well.
Jen and Terri. . . . in the back garden.
The green garden, all evergreens, yews and box. . . .
The shade garden that only afforded dappled sunlight, with trellis'
overhead filled with flowers.
In the shaded garden, I came across some steps that lead
to this door. . . . a little bit of magic and wonder.
. . . . . the steps
Out of the shaded garden and looking back. . .
Another window with another view . . . .
Can you even stand the touch of moss on his neighbors home? ? ?
The magic and quiet just continued on and so did
my love affair with stone and moss.
Could that be a wee bit of English Lavender?
Wooden trellis' were everywhere. . . vines followed and
behaved accordingly.
Stones that once stabilized a new shrub or tree were never
taken away. Don't you just want to go out and find some old
mossy stones? I asked about shipping. . . . . only kidding.
Little gifts stood quietly waiting for our eyes to see.
An invitation to enter his home....
Inside looking out. . . . . garden vistas everywhere
Mr. Potts' had carefully planned his walkways, his flowers
and the scheduling of blooming time for each specimen. . .
This little living area was cozy and quaint. He was so proud of
his fireplace which dated back to the 1600's.
Back outside, we headed to his nursery . . .
On a workbench in the little nursery, I spotted a little nest.
It had been found on the ground and he didn't quite know
the type of bird that would have called it HOME. Maybe.
it was a Chiffchaff. . . . a bird found throughout Britain.
If I would have been lucky enough to have a garden nearby,
I would have made a purchase. . . . . .maybe nextime.
