A very English morning

Written By: marty - Apr• 24•12

I walked out the door this morning on my way to our Greendays gardening segment on KUOW, and for just a moment, it felt like I was in England. That’s what a cloudy, barely cool morning does – it reminds me of the Chelsea Flower Show and the European tours I lead. I got the sudden urge to pack a bag – but, this year, that won’t happen until later in the summer, when it mostly likely will not be cool and cloudy. Or maybe it will.

Postman's Park

Packing for the weather is a dodgy business. My friend Jane is on a barge tour in France right now. She had staged her packing a week ahead of the trip, but two days before checked the forecast and found that it was supposed to be rainy and cool. She repacked.

My Florence scarf

I go in for many layers of clothing and don’t try to pack thick (and so, fewer) clothes. Many thin layers mean more options, and my Florence scarf (pictured – yes, I got it in Florence) is perfect for a chilly room or terrace.

And when it’s hot, I start peeling – not too far, don’t worry – and look for shade. On a hot day last summer, I scored a spot on a stone bench at The Fountains near the Lancaster Gate in Hyde Park, and watched what seemed like the entire city pass by. Not only was it fun, I was doing research, of course, as Pru and Christopher (The Garden Plot, a Potting Shed mystery) make a day of first at Postman’s Park (pictured above) and then walking to the pelicans at St. James’s Park.

I realize that some travelers would think sitting in a park half the day a waste of time, but I have no qualms about spending time observing, chatting, and wandering. Don’t give me this “bucket list” business or how many places you have to see before you die. Just enjoy yourself.

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Jane Austen gardened here

Written By: marty - Mar• 05•12

Well, all right, perhaps she didn’t do the actual gardening, but if she had been here, I’m sure she would’ve cut a rose or two. When we visited Bath Spa last summer, we were up to our ears in Georgian-style gardens and it felt like Austen might walk around the yew hedge at any moment.

Kennard Hotel, back garden

You can join the throng in the city center – I believe everyone must say “I’ll meet you at the baths” – but look sharp so that you don’t accidentally end up on one of the myriad of coaches that stop near the Abbey, regularly disgorging and then sucking up their passengers. Perhaps you’ve been a day tripper?

It’s possible to enjoy Bath and not get caught up in the hordes. We stayed at a small, charming hotel just a ten-minute walk from the rail station – granted, last summer, it was a ten-minute walk in the pouring rain, but that’s beside the point. Up Manvers Street, alongside the Parade Gardens, across Pulteney Bridge, and hang a left onto quiet Henrietta Street, and we arrived at the Kennard Hotel.

The rooms are small, the breakfast room cozy, the hosts – Mary and Giovanni Baiano – friendly and accommodating. And in the back garden of this Georgian townhouse, you’ll find a picture of what it might have looked like if Jane lived there.

Kennard Hotel, Bath

Such an authentic representation that their garden appears in Kim Wilson’s book In the Garden with Jane Austen (Frances Lincoln, 2009).

You’ll find another Georgian period garden by heading toward the Royal Crescent by way of the quieter gravel walk rather than traipsing up Gay Street and around The Circus. The garden is free to enter and wander through – signage explains the layout. The garden had been covered up during Victorian improvements, and then uncovered again. It’s a garden to stroll around – picture Lizzie and Jane Bennett arm-in-arm.

For your Bath Spa pub stop, Leighton recommends one of his favorites – The Raven. Cozy and dark downstairs; bright and cheery upstairs.

Georgian Garden, Bath

So, venture away from the Pump Room, come out of the Jane Austen Centre (you can’t budge in that gift shop, anyway) and stop lounging around on the grass at the Royal Crescent. There’s more to see.

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What I learned from Beth Chatto’s garden

Written By: marty - Jan• 12•12

Nothing like getting out of your own everyday surroundings to remind yourself of what’s important in the garden. Granted, we were far away from our everyday surroundings – at Beth Chatto’s garden, just outside Colchester, and a brief train journey from Liverpool station in London. Here are a few notes from our July 2011 visit.

Be tolerant of reseeders. Some who have seen my garden might say I’m a bit too tolerant of reseeders, but it’s really all a matter of editing. I’ve railed against this drumstick allium for several years, but seeing it pop up among mounding plants in the Gravel Garden reminded me that it’s nice to have a few plants that can take care of themselves.

Accentuate the positive. What would you do with the compacted soil of a former car park? Most of us would probably go in for improvement – dig in, add compost, make it “better.” But Beth Chatto went with what she had and planted Zauschneria and Verbascum and Tanacetum. I have a Tanacetum named after her; it’s in the parking strip, a place with conditions near to her car park/gravel garden.

Take a stroll. All gardens need a way and a reason to walk. Even small gardens can have a path and a destination.

 

Take time for tea. More American gardens need to have a café with local fare offered. Tell us who made the tea cakes and that the greens for the salad came from outside the kitchen door.

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From Seattle to Royal Tunbridge Wells

Written By: marty - Nov• 08•11

The Pantiles, 1895

A bus and a train and a plane and a plane and a train and a Tube and a train and a taxi. Without a hitch. I suppose we expect problems these days – late planes, delays on the Tube, where’s our bus? – but from the time we stepped out our door headed for the #5 bus to take us downtown so that we could pick up light rail to the airport, it was really a breeze.

All 24 hours of it. But still, by the time we got to our bed-and-breakfast in Tunbridge Wells (Broadwater B&B, 24 Clarendon Way – just a five-minute walk from the Pantiles), we marveled at the ease.

I prefer to fly nonstop – get on the plane, get off the plane – but the prices were too high, so we fly Seattle to Vancouver, B.C., and then nonstop to Heathrow. Changing planes in Vancouver was a million times better than the time we flew Air Canada through Toronto. Never, ever do that.

I bought our Heathrow Express tickets before we left home and printed out the tickets, saving us a few quid. Compared with driving (we hired a car once during morning rush hour in London), the 15-minute train trip is nothing. We toyed with the idea of taking a taxi from Paddington to Charing Cross, where we would get our train to Tunbridge Wells, but we never travel with a lot of luggage and so opted for the Tube – besides, we had our Oyster cards from last summer to use.

Barely a wait for the next train at Charing Cross – really just enough time to get sandwiches to take with us. And an hour before we got off again. This time we did get a taxi, just because David at our B&B said we might not want to haul our bags up the hill.

Ah, Tunbridge Wells. We spent much of our two days there hanging out in the historic district, the Pantiles. I’d seen that word often enough in magazines and had no idea what it meant. Our Blue Badge guide cleared it up: it refers to the pavers they used two centuries ago, which were tiles that had been made in pans.

The Pantiles (previously known as the Walks and the Parade): In the summer, there are free outdoor jazz concerts on Thursday evenings. The Duke of York is a great pub.

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Walking the streets of London

Written By: marty - Oct• 24•11

I walked the streets of London this summer, just as the main character in The Garden Plot walks them – only I wasn’t involved in a murder investigation. On second thought, I guess I was involved, but as I was the one who created and directed it, I didn’t feel in any danger.

Pelicans at St. James's Park, London

And I wasn’t nearly as distracted as Pru when she walks the length of Hyde Park and abruptly stops before getting any closer to St. James’s Park. It’s about a two-mile walk from where I entered at the Lancaster Gate. It was a Sunday and warm, and the benches around the Italian fountain was chockablock – I was lucky to find a seat on a stone bench in the shade. All of London had come out to enjoy the weather.

I walked down along the Long Water and Serpentine, past the bandstand – loads of people were heading there for a concert. At Hyde Park Corner (just in case you’re wondering, that’s not the same as Speakers’ Corner), I was deposited back out into traffic and made my way alongside Buckingham Palace and Green Park before getting to the edge of St. James’s.

I was in search of the pelicans. Pelicans, as Christopher tells Pru, have been in residence at St. James’s Park since 1664, but pelicans aren’t the only waterfowl. A wide assortment of ducks, herons, and geese are among the other inhabitants – I believe I remember some reader boards in at least one of the parks explaining who everyone was – and they all hang around Duck Island when it gets close to feeding time.

Research on a book can be grueling – or not. I’ll count my research in the latter category.

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Chelsea Physic Garden can grow them-can you?

Written By: marty - Oct• 04•11

Cool fall mornings create niggling questions in gardeners’ minds: What will winter

Sir Hans Sloane, Chelsea Physic Garden

be like? Which plants will live, which will die in unseasonably cold weather or periods of flooding? A visit to the Chelsea Physic Garden in late June reminded me it isn’t what is planted when cold weather strikes, but when it was planted.

Raise your hand if you had a plant die in last winter’s late cold spell? But who had a plant that lived when you thought it probably shouldn’t? I have a Chilean myrtle (Luma apiculata) in a four-inch pot that survived, although next to it a Leptospermum succumbed.

Many of the trees and shrubs at the Chelsea Physic Garden have been in the ground long enough that they seem to shake cold spells off. The volunteer guide pointed out an enormous, good-looking olive tree and said that hers on her tiny balcony suffered greatly. Granted, the olive doesn’t produce any fruit, but really, if you want to the whole olives-to-olive-oil experience, then go to Tuscany in late October.

Also at the Chelsea Physic Garden, two big pomegranates (maybe it’s three?) provide ornament from their orange flowers and the beginning of fruit development – they never make it far – and a monstrous bay laurel do well every year, even the last two extremely cold winters.

So, the moral of the story is: go ahead and plant that olive/bay/myrtle and give it extra protection when it’s small. It will grow into its own and you will be so proud.

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Origins of the English Detective

Written By: marty - Sep• 21•11

Ever wonder where your favorite fictional English detective came from? No, not from Royal Tunbridge Wells or that cute little village in the Cotswolds – I mean, what was the inspiration for his existence? From Adam Dalgliesh and Tommy Lynley all the way back to Inspector Bucket, it’s likely that his (or her) origins lie within the story of the murder at Road Hill House and the man who worked to identify the culprit.

It isn’t fiction: both the murder and the detective were real, but the events read like a who-done-it, and created what was called a “detective fever” – the Victorian fascination with detectives – and the country house murder.

In Kate Summerscale’s book, The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher or The Murder at Road Hill House, the author details the events and cast of characters involved in the murder of a four-year-old boy one night at a house near Trowbridge, Wiltshire. The house was self-contained: All locked up for the night, the murder could have been committed only by someone inside. The ideal English country-house murder story.

Even better than telling this true story is Summerscale’s description of Jonathan Whicher, one of just a few detectives in a new division at the Home Office (which was located in New Scotland Yard), and his influence on fiction at the time. Summerscale brings in descriptions from writers of the day, including Wilkie Collins and Poe. She quotes Charles Dickens – who knew Whicher – and compares the real detective with Inspector Bucket in Bleak House investigating Lady Dedlock and the murder of Sir Leicester’s lawyer Tulkinghorn.

(Just an aside – would that we all had the ability to choose such fabulous character names as Dickens did.)

I bought The Suspicions of Mr.Whicher at Topping Books in Bath Spa – just a few miles away from Road Hill – perfect.

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