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Wild Flowers

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Above: Flowers

He likes things to run a little wild and she likes things manicured. But that doesn’t result in disharmony in John and Jean Cresswell’s idyllic house and garden at Idridgehay.

The neat lawns and rose beds in the immediate vicinity of the thatched and timbered house create a calendar picture that is the epitome of an English country garden. Far beyond the house, parts of the garden are so enjoyably like a walk through the countryside that you almost expect to see a footpath sign.

The house was built in 1642, with a Victorian extension dating from 1821, and has been beautifully maintained and improved.Too little is known of its history, though it is a source of satisfaction to the couple that a gentleman named Cresswell – unrelated – once lived here. He was responsible for the 1821 extension and was also involved in building Idridgehay church.

The gravelled drive, formal box garden, flower border and mellow brick wall are laid out on an imprint visible in old photographs, with new additions like the Indian bean tree with broad green leaves, introduced to create a bit of shade in hot weather. John loves the fragrance and abundance of David Austin roses, and bright yellow ones make a first appearance here, by the house.Water is a natural feature of the garden, flowing from a small underground reservoir in the hillside above the house, so ponds crop up everywhere. ‘This is bindweed, which gets all over the place,’ John says of a density of foliage round the first pond that is threatening to obliterate the statues. In its defence, he says, ‘But I quite like the flowers, and actually it looks all right here.’ Which it does.

Four ancient yew trees have merged into one imposing structure, creating an umbrella of shade. The stream turns up again to feed a formal rectangular pond in front of a stone temple currently under construction and awaiting its dome. It will be serenity itself in this quiet corner, a site that really lends itself to this sort of structure, John reflects.

Away from the temple, natural paths wander upwards through a jungle of gunnera, hostas and foxgloves. It’s a battleground for ground elder and John says with a sigh, ‘You wouldn’t think all this was cleared a few weeks ago. There’s too much of a lot of stuff and it needs a lot of work on it.’ The sound of water is everywhere. Herons have decimated the fish stocks in yet another small, natural pond, and the most impressive pool is the size of a small lake, edged with trees.

The trees are taking a lot of the water out and John has been dredging the mud and weathering it in mounds in expectation of good soil in six months time.

A rabbit darts for cover in an area where old pictures show there was once a rockery. Wildlife is welcome in these farthest reaches: frogs and toads have a home here, rabbits are tolerated because they do no damage, and swathes of daisy-carpeted meadow grass are only partly cut. ‘I saw these cornflowers growing and didn’t mow that bit. There’s campion and clover, and bees land on the clover, so I like to leave it,’ comments John, who manages the four acres himself with the Saturday help of his son,Tom.

The house occasionally slips into view, a chocolate-box picture set against the gentle slopes above the Ecclesbourne Valley. Paths wind everywhere, circumventing neat piles of compost or mounds of logs waiting to be shredded for mulch. Roses re-appear, this time the nhardy and fragrant Rugosas, which will eventually make a copse. Natural hedgerow plants like rose, blackthorn and hawthorn have been combined into a beautifully contrasting hedge.

Fragrance comes from the mock orange Philadelphus, the lacy white flowers of the wedding cake tree have yielded to deep black, shiny berries, and a hazel tree is already laden with the promise of nuts. John observes, ‘I never manage to get to them before the squirrels do ...’

We cross the equivalent of another small field, which includes a requisite mnettle patch – ‘You’re supposed to keep a few ...You can make liquid fertiliser but it smells atrocious ...’ A mole has undermined a patch where John was mtrying to plant holly, but he appears to bear no resentment to the mole or indeed to the mice who got his peas in a small vegetable garden with a riot of mrhubarb. There are sunflower seeds in mtubes and more wild roses before we mround a corner and enter a stunning area which is a garden in its own right, mcreated from a former tennis court.

It is formal without being rigidly msymmetrical, and characterised by raised mbeds full of flourishing vegetables: mbroccoli, parsnips, spinach, broad beans, mcarrots in pots ready for thinning and mdestined to be eaten with salad. There are mplump strawberries in abundance. All this mis enclosed by a wall at one end of what mappear to be the tallest and most me exuberant roses in the world, and by yew mhedges at the side, into which John plans to cut an arch when it has grown high enough.Water cascades from three fountains and the scent of roses, all chosen for cutting for the house, is sublime.

Other raised beds are full of nfoxgloves, poppies, evening primrose and lavender. ‘When I grow something from seed, I never like to throw anything away.

I haven’t got round to sorting out the planting plan in here yet, I just put things in,’ John observes. He takes great satisfaction from the dressed stone flags and edging stones here, material all recovered from beneath the front garden in the years after the Cresswells came to Idridgehay from Kirk Ireton in 1999.

‘There were three courses of dressed stone, two and a half feet down.We dug it all up, tons of it – it’s something you don’t come across very often.’ He is modest about the masonry skills he has acquired in the process: subtle touches include stepping stones across the gravel in an area by the greenhouse, set out in the shape of a flower. ‘I’ve dug most things up but I’m still waiting for the treasure,’ he says as we wander back past damson trees – ‘quite productive’ – and a self-set oak tree that produces ‘barrowloads of acorns’. A cottage and outbuildings complete a horseshoe of buildings invisible from the busy road outside.The great laburnum by the entrance gates was set for the Queen’s Coronation, and John would like to plant a wisteria for contrast – when he gets the time.

‘It does take all my time.You’ve got mto like gardening,’ he acknowledges. ‘But if you’ve got a place like this, it deserves to be looked after.’


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