I was taken by surprise: Wales is too beautiful. It was impossible to extract myself. On my way there, in Herefordshire, I discovered How Caple Gardens. The garden is an Arts and Crafts masterpiece, redolent of a lost golden afternoon, literally like stumbling upon paradise. On descent into the garden’s valley, one is dwarfed in an enormous clearing, surrounded by tall trees, and abounding silence, where a semi-circular stone stage presides over a huge grass space. It is perfectly decayed – weeds are growing out of the steps, redundant columns encircle the back. Yet it all seemed as though it had only just been stepped away from – the silence was loud. And then the sublime struck. An Italianate water garden, arresting by its atmosphere, discovered through the woods; a near empty, deep crucifix rill surrounded by fastigiate yews, hedges of wayward, fresh box, and un-swept leaves. At one end a stone pavilion with pillars dripping in Parthenocissus quincefolia, while a stone pergola surrounds the whole. The party could have finished moments ago, such was the strength of the atmosphere – so much so, that in ten minutes I had the finer details of my own party there planned to the last mask. How Caple is Paradise set in a beautiful park with longhorn cattle, giving the feeling of a Golden Age. For me it was clearly going to be the garden against which I would judge all others, and I don’t doubt it wasn’t also because there wasn’t another visitor in sight.
I carried on, and for 14 days my eyes were on stalks for the gardens I saw. It was wonderful. This, however, was all 4 years ago. I'm ready to be wowed again, this time in Ireland....
