Raveningham Garden

A jaunt into the landscape under my nose. With John, (and Kali naturally) we drove to Ravningham gardens. The luxury of high walled gardens,  figs and peaches on south facing red brick, vegetables to keep an army in produce, tiered glass houses glass painted in chalk white to stop the sun from burning, Woodland amid wild uncut grass, loads of ground cover, shrubs, and informality. Melon pits and a Time garden, based on Francis Bacon’s Essay of Gardens. Bacon is the family.

There were loads of them in the church. We try and piece together the generations, and become confused with their protocol (Hickney Bacon or Bacon Hickney?). There are spaces waiting. So how is it, we wondered, to come to church and face the blank shield that will one day bare your name? There must be some humbling feeling to be just part of a system, pre-determined.

Loved Loddon –  must return. Always good to leave a table still a bit hungry.

We ended at Reedham, admiring the huge wild skies across the marshes. Will I live here one day?

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