The Estate.

          Of the four RHS gardens, Hyde Hall is the youngest - yet interestingly at three hundred and sixty acres it is also the one with the most land to its name. Vast swathes stretch far, far beyond the main garden, and are referred to simply as 'The Estate'.
     
        The man who cares for the Estate is Elliot Wagstaff, a fresh face on the team but knowledgeable in native flora and fauna. We walked around his domain this morning, as he pointed out to me many things the untrained eye would overlook: the first primroses of spring, purple alder buds, 'Dog's Mercury', and even tawny owl feathers (pictured left) in the grasses.

          However, the most exciting aspect of the day was seeing how the young trees are growing on the Estate. In January, I partook in an effort to plant thousands of saplings in the southern and eastern borders: oaks, maples, pines, apples and many more. It was a hard task indeed with ice and mud, cold winds and the odd hailstorm, and voles have torn through earlier plantations ruinously. Yet with warming camaraderie, we pushed on with ambition undimmed. It was wonderful to now see many of the trees alive and with new buds, and to admire the size of those planted by others in previous years. The hope is for a dense, rich woodland to encircle Hyde Hall - complimenting the surrounding landscape, nurturing wildlife, and creating a beautiful place for visitors to lose themselves in.

The Meadow.

Whether I'm driving or walking to Hyde Hall, every morning I pass the old oak tree in the picture above. It sits a little way out from the rest of the garden, so it is the first thing I see at dawn and the last thing I see on the way home - it is certainly one of my favourite sights here in Essex.

For this reason, I'm delighted to look at the tree now at the centre of what-shall-soon-be a new meadow. With guidance from the greatly esteemed Professor James Hitchmough (famed for the London 2012 Olympic Park meadows), the designs I have seen look brilliant: waves of varying plants, each swathe native to a different country. Bring on the summer - I expect I shall be spending even more time looking over towards that tree!

The meadow method:
-Remove any existing vegetation and wait for two months. Repeat this twice.
-Get to work on the soil, breaking it up into as crumbly a texture as possible.
-Cover the soil with sand, seventy-five millimetres in depth (this is due to Hyde Hall's clay soil).
-Using measuring tape or rods, and rope or markers, assess the size of the land (consider dividing large areas     into portions) - and thus how thickly or thinly the seed should be spread.
-Mix meadow seeds with sawdust to spread them further, if necessary.
-Sow the seeds in the month suggested by suppliers.
-Give the land a gentle raking to bury seeds into the sand.
-Protect your hard work under a layer of jute with a high gauge (large gaps for seedlings to rise through).              This will biodegrade naturally. Alhough metal pegs will hold jute in place, they tend not to biodegrade so well  and do not get on cosily with lawnmowers or strimmers.
-Cup of tea.

Cambridge University Botanic Garden and Anglesey Abbey.

As the sun continues to refamiliarise itself with the grounds of Hyde Hall, it feels like a very special place to be. Nevertheless, my fortune seems all the greater when so many fresh and interesting projects are currently afoot there. The next few posts will take a look at some of them.

First of all, the Winter Garden. Although fantastic winter flora can be found throughout Hyde Hall -dogwoods and willows, hellebores and bergenias - hitherto it has not had a dedicated winter garden. However, work has already begun to change this, and the Clover Hill team (myself included) set off north to find ideas and inspiration.

Two of the finest winter gardens nearby belong to Cambridge University Botanic Garden and Anglesey Abbey. It is worth noting at this point that I had already visited the former in recent times (post below), but it is remarkable how much change is visible even from December - blossom now upon its Prunus mume (right), and of course bulbs rising through the earth. It clearly illustrates one should never underestimate what can happen within even a single season!

To keep colours burning through the darkest days of the year is a mighty feat. However, winter gardens therefore tend to display colour so brightly and triumphantly that I tend to find them quite overwhelming. Nonetheless, both gardens had views that completely enraptured me - especially Anglesey Abbey's drifts of snowdrops and winter aconites, and its birch grove (right). David the Assistant Head Gardener explained to us that the birches are kept perfectly white with just a simple water hose-down, and by not peeling them!