10
Zofia’s cottage, Rosehill
Blooms and bad judgement
Wednesday
When I reached Zofia, not only was she free for a mid-afternoon visit to her garden, she was also about to pass the end of the lane, so in no time at all she arrived to pick me up. Now we’re flying inland towards the village of Rosehill along narrow country lanes with endless high hedges. Unlike Miles, Zofia doesn’t have the problem of a car that is silent.
She yells across to where I’m sitting on the weathered blue leather of the passenger seat. ‘Don’t you just love my trusty old Alpha? It’s the only car that roars louder than Status Quo.’ She crashes through the gears. ‘It’s terrible for guzzling the gas, but Aleksy has electric vans, so our carbon footprint is not so bad.’ She slews into a sliding skid around the next corner, and as we drift to a halt in front of a monumental gateway flanked by high stone walls, some ancient timber gates swing open.
‘Automatic gates were Aleksy’s first job when we arrived ten years ago.’
As she pulls into a broad gravelled area, I’m frowning at the long house built of fudge-coloured stone and mentally waving goodbye to the cottage garden photos I’ve secretly been hoping for.
‘Welcome to Bird’s Nest Hall.’ Zofia rolls her eyes. ‘If ever I say small, I’m being ironic. When you see the roof, you will understand why the name is a joke too.’
I look up at the prickly straw of the eaves. ‘A thatched house so big it could belong to the beanstalk giant.’
As we climb out of the Alpha, Zofia waves her hand towards the wall. ‘We came down from London to work on the Cornish gold rush and ended up here. I will show you the inside after the work is done.’ She beckons me to follow. ‘The house is not important, I bought it for what is on the other side.’
We make our way around the house gable, and when we emerge into the splash of sunlight on the front of the house I gasp. ‘A walled garden!’
Zofia’s voice has softened. ‘That’s what I fell in love with. It’s a physic garden!’
I’ve heard of these before. ‘Is that where the plants have to be medicinal, herbal, or edible?’
She nods. ‘The oldest ones date back to the sixteen hundreds, which was probably when this house originated, although the box hedges are newly planted in the old pattern.’
The grass between the beds is soft under our feet, and there is a central path, with bushes bursting into bloom along each side, and beyond that there are borders. There are so many long views and close-up shots to take as I reach for my phone I hardly know where to begin.
‘Lavender plants always look so beautiful when they’re in a line.’ I crush a sprig between my fingers, then breathe in the deep, oily scent. ‘You have all my favourites here– bay, feverfew, viola, lemon balm, rosemary, jasmine, evening primrose.’ They’re arranged in groups, repeating further along the borders, which are bursting. ‘Everywhere I look there’s another favourite.’
Zofia raises her eyebrows. ‘It’s nice to meet someone who knows their plants!’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘I learned the names from my mum. I’m definitely not a gardener myself, I’m more of a fan girl.’
Zofia smiles. ‘Did you know there are three hundred different types of thyme? It’s my challenge to have as many different varieties as I can. And it’s not limited to herbs– we have roses and perennial geraniums and apple and pear trees, and a rhubarb area.’
‘Do you grow plants from seed?’
She nods. ‘I do, but I propagate from cuttings too. We have restored the greenhouses in the old kitchen garden on the other side of the wall. The bigger borders are there, with beds for growing on.’ Her eyes are shining as she leads me to a wide door and a whole new view beyond. ‘I pour the money into the garden, not the house. I tell Aleksy, a garden takes longer to make; his building work can be done at the end, and that way we will finish together.’
I’m pointing at a long border bursting with yellow and orange flowers. ‘Your marigolds?’
‘I love those especially. A friend harvests and dries the flowers to use in her healing pomades.’ She leads the way to aseries of tables by the garden edge covered with hundreds of small pots, each containing a tiny plant. ‘So far I’ve grown new plants to fill the garden asitgrew, but my true dream is to have my physic garden open to the public with a plant nursery alongside.’
There’s so much excitement surging through me I’m flapping my hands. ‘Zofia, you’re ticking every box for a feature piece in the magazine!’ I’m tugging at her sleeve. ‘An ancient restored walled garden where the owner propagates all her own stock, growing plants for self-healingandaspiring to have her own nursery business? Tell me I can run it past my boss, Fenna?’
‘Of course! I’d be honoured!’
I’m leaning against her, collapsing with relief at what I’ve stumbled across. ‘Cosmos and zinnias and nasturtiums and cornflowers and love-in-a-mist. There’s something amazing about a sea of mixed flowers…’ I break off mid-sentence, but someone takes my thought and runs on with it.
‘The way they sway, and rustle like water in the wind…’
I turn to smile at Zofia for getting it so right, but then I realise the voice is deeper than hers and she’s not moving her lips.
There’s a laugh on the other side of the wall, and a second later, Miles comes sauntering through the doorway, cool as a courgette that’s been in the chiller tray.
