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Sunday, April 13, 2014

Pashley Manor 'The Glory of the Garden'

Jim and I have several favorite gardens in England that we return to see seasonally. Pashley Manor in Ticehurst, East Sussex has been in our top 5 ranking for years!

This historical site, originally the home of Anne Boleyn's family, has been on our 'tour' whenever we have visitors from the USA. Someday, hopefully, Jackie can join us. The first and foremost reason we love this site is that it is privately owned. James Sellick and his wife have owned the property since 1981. Their love of the home...
and gardens is evident as you wander through the walled gardens, around the swimming pool, through the orchards, past perennial borders and sitting on their umbrella landscaped terrace. On many occasions and again yesterday, we happened to meet Mr. Sellick on his terrace. He is a very striking gentleman with white hair, a full white mustache and always dressed like a gentleman gardener. Several times we have seen him working in the vegetable plot and other times chatting with visitors about the history of the house or his selection of plants. His love for the property and the glory of the Pashley Manor garden is here for you to enjoy.

We thought it most appropriate to set our pictures to Rudyard Kipling's poem...

 'The Glory of the Garden.'

Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

 For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
You will find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all;
The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dungpits and the tanks:
The rollers, carts and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.


And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;
For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.


And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;
But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:--"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.


There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.
But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,
So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!
And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away! 
 Rudyard Kipling

The Glory of this Garden is confirmed by it receiving the Garden of the Year Award, by Historic Houses Association and Christie's.

Well done! Mr. Sellick... your Pashley Manor Garden will 'never pass away!'

So until our paths meet again...

PS - be sure to follow us... next week, more on Jackie's creative work on her studio!

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