By Ben Ruscombe-King

Sometime in May, in the garden at Endsleigh, there is a moment when I am overcome by an overwhelming sense of optimism, the realisation that the world is a wonderful place and that I am indeed lucky to be alive. I don’t know why but it always comes as something of a shock, despite it having happened every year for the last ten years, perhaps because it is something of a movable feast, being in thrall to the weather, perhaps that it is not always prompted by the same thing but rather a panoply of individual moments of wonder and delight, that build and build until they leave one completely dumbfounded.

It is not easy to describe the sensation for it is so much more than a sum of its parts. The senses are assailed on all sides: the valley is filled with birdsong, bees buzz busily betwixt blooms, woodpeckers tap out their mating calls in the awakening trees and all against the perpetual backdrop of the life-giving water cascading down to the river below. Scent hangs heavy in the air as rhododendron luteum bursts into bloom, whilst bluebells and wild garlic carpet the valley. Colour bombards one from all sides as blooms fill the garden, wild and exotic plants jostle for space along the banks, candelabra primulas battle with pink champion for the attention of pollinators, rhododendrons duel with cherry blossom. It is not for the faint hearted and could never be accused of following the rules of taste and decency. Even without the bright pinks, reds, blues and yellows the verdant background takes on such an intensity at this time of year that it is no longer just a background. As buds burst forth on the trees, fern croziers unfurl along the streamsides and the giant gunnera leaves unfold – the whole scene is one of vigour, it is a vigour that is contagious and once caught, offers an energy unrivalled by any man made tonic.

Anyone would think this extra shot of energy was somehow preordained, for we are now entering the busiest period in the garden and can certainly benefit from this little fillip. Waiting in the wings (by which I mean polytunnel) are thousands of annuals which will be planted over the next few weeks to augment the perennials now beginning to fill the long border. 3,000 salvia will be set out in the parterre as soon as the tulips are over and of course the summer tyranny of weeding and mowing is already well underway, though tempered by being undertaken in this little piece of paradise. 

As the border plants begin to swell and fill the forlorn gaps of March, euphorbias are echoing the spring green so energising in the rest of the garden and the buds of camassia, asphedoline, paeony and allium are soon to burst forth to replace the spring bulbs. The rose arch is re-clothed in its glossy new foliage, and little buds hint at its mid-summer crescendo.

At the end of the lawn, the Shell House has undergone major repairs after a landslide last year. Though something of a calamity at the time, the outer walls have been rebuilt, the rockery has been cleared and we are in the process of replanting in shades of white and green, a fairytale landscape for the fairytale grotto. From adversity comes opportunity, as you can see it’s easy to be optimistic at this time of year. Watch this space!