A Timely Reminder

Betley Court gardens have been basking in high temperatures and glorious sunshine all week. It’s been a challenge to keep things watered and the soil is baked dry. Around the visitors’ hub, foxgloves (digitalis) and oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare) are

flowering and the new planting is helping the building settle into the landscape. Until todays drizzle, I’ve been watering every couple of days with a sprinkler. Five minutes per patch, until the newly seeded woodland grasses and wildflower seeds are thoroughly soaked.

 Foxgloves and ferns in harmony

Leucanthemum vulgare

Two of the three acers (A. palmatum) we transplanted to the temple are doing well. Unfortunately, the third, which was in a stressed condition before we rescued it from the Peace Garden, is looking a little the worse for wear. A couple of branches have died back, and I’ll probably prune them, to allow the tree to concentrate its efforts in its other limbs. When you move a tree, you inevitably lose some of the roots, and this affects the tree’s ability to take up water to maintain its branches. Hence the die-back. Fingers crossed, extra watering and the pruning will give it the best chance.  

We have an historic precedent for moving trees at Betley Court. The magnificent Cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) in the centre of the lawn was moved there as a semi-mature specimen, by the notable Victorian landscape designer, William Barron. He was known affectionately as ‘The Great Tree Mover’, and it just goes to show you what can be achieved with a bit of effort.

Inside Betley Court. Stripped of everything.

On Sunday, the family (Nigel and I, and our grown-up children) donned our safety PPE kit of steel-toe-capped boots, hi-viz jackets and hard hats and ventured in to the ruins of Betley Court. All week, our contractors have been clearing ash and rubble, and have now moved onto stripping the less damaged flats of their water-damaged plasterboard walls. New scaffolding has been erected under vaulted ceiling and door cavities, to protect what is left of the main house. I’m filled with an odd mix of optimism and despair. Getting rid of the ash and rubble makes it all cleaner, and we can see what is left. It is hard though, to watch forty years of family life unceremoniously dumped into skips. The flats are being stripped too. We’d only just finished a programme of upgrades when the fire happened, and it is sad to see new electric systems, and the odd kitchen cabinet broken up for scrap. The odd remnant of one of our resident’s former life here occasionally makes the surface, a frying pan, or pages from a book, reminding me how much I miss that little Betley Court community we’d built up over the years.

Our son had a funny moment during our visit. I say funny, he opened a fridge-freezer that had been untouched for the last ten months. The stench was truly horrendous. “It was terrible, Mum. The smell just kinda followed me around!” A lesson learned, I think, by the next generation: abandoned fridge is best left unopened.

Clearing the cellar

The children, along with our forcibly socially distanced (thanks COVID19!) wider family in Scotland and Australia, are taking an enthusiastic interest in what’s happening at the Court. Nigel and I dug out some photographs we had of William Douglas Carӧe’s plans remodelling of the hallway of the main house. The plans are available for anyone to view, at the William Salt Library – although you’ll have to wait until after Lockdown, when the Staffordshire Library Services resume services. Nigel and I visited on a research trip in 2015. Little did we know that our photographs would be of use some five years later, when we’re consulting with a conservation architect on the rebuild of Betley Court!

The flowers of Robinia psuedoacacia in full bloom

The list of jobs to do around the garden grows and grows exponentially. Two visitors to the garden reminded me that Nigel and I should take time to actually ENJOY the garden. Our visitors had been enjoying a permitted (during Lockdown) walk around the grounds, and noticed that our false acacia trees (Robinia pseudo-acacia) in flower. This tree is also known as the black locust, and is a native of parts of the United States. It was introduced to the UK in 1636. Interestingly, it flowers after 140 days of ‘warm enough’ weather. This may explain why it is flowering so profusely this year – after all, it’s been a warm spring. Our two visitors were very excited about it. I have to agree, the scent was intoxicating. And I must confess, I’ve known the gardens for 25 years, but I’ve never noticed these flowers before. Have I just, as our visitors suggested, not taken time to enjoy the garden, or is it just that the current hot weather has resulted in a particularly good display of flowers?

It was a timely reminder that the gardens were made as ‘pleasure grounds’: they were planted and maintained to be enjoyed. And as if I needed another reminder, our two returned residents, P & M were out on the front lawn as I left last night. They were playing that most English of games, croquet, on the grass lawns. I can’t think of anything that sums up rural life in England than that, along with church bells, warm beer, and the thwack of leather on willow during a cricket match. Memo to self; the Brown family must find time to enjoy the gardens, after all, a ‘to do’ will grow and grow. But what is it all for unless we take time to savour it?

Keep safe and take care in these strange COVID19 times.

All best wishes

Ladybird Su