Cornish gardens

If you ever want to witness the rate of growth in a garden, leave it for a week in June. We have been away, camping in Cornwall. For complicated reasons, we returned in the middle of the night and it was as if the kitchen garden had doubled in size. In the clear night, with a sky studded with stars, we shuttle bags and sleepy dogs along the path. I am certain that when we left, it was a sensible sort of width. On our return, a scant week later, we can barely fit down it, and we are painted from mid-thigh to toes with raindrops by flopping Lady’s Mantles and sanguisorba.

In the light of day, there is growth in other places too. The courgettes, predictably, have arrived with a bang. There are rogue raspberries in the hedge studding the beech like jewels. The Watermelon sweet peas demonstrate quite how neon Nature can make pink. No, I won’t be growing them again.

I digress.

MY RECOMMENDATIONS FOR CORNWALL

All combine food and flowers. Or should it be flowers and food?

Coombeshead Farm

So close to the A30 as to practically be a service station and exactly half way between home and holiday, we stopped for lunch on our drive down. Utterly glorious food (Westcombe panisse, and fava beans on goat’s cheese and sourdough), which we ate in the courtyard in the sunshine, surrounded by drooling dogs. In the farm shop, I stocked up on bread and cheese, pastries and eggs. I enjoyed myself so much, I forgot to take any pictures at all.

Lunch was also given an edge of jeopardy by incoming rain and the prospect of putting up the tent in the wet.

The Potager

I adore this garden. I have spent many years trying to work out quite why it weaves its magic and I think I have finally given up and I just revel in its loveliness. The glasshouse is wonderful. The hammocks are seductive. The garden invites exploration and appreciation. There are orchards and a little kitchen garden, and excellent compost heaps. I had Turkish eggs and a whole pot of Earl Grey tea and they were both utterly wonderful. I nearly bought lots of plants, but we only just fitted everything in the Land Rover on the way down, so I didn’t think adding anything for the way back was wise. Lovely ferns though, and I don’t even like ferns usually.

Kestle Barton

Like the Potager, this is a garden we come back to again and again. Unlike the Potager, Kestle Barton changes every year. A James Alexander-Sinclair design around a beautiful lime-plastered restoration, it was full of froth and drama. Over the years, it has become more structural, with the Amelanchiers growing up and out. This year, there was the startling addition of alliums that pretty much reached the sky. I have never seen such a thing. Food-wise, there is a little glass fronted kitchen in the garden where you can make your own coffee and help yourself to ice creams and cake. During our second visit, it was pouring with rain and I sat in there at a little table and wrote about how life was going to be different when we got home. The sort of thing you can only write when you are on holiday and a long way from reality.

The New Yard Pantry & Restaurant at Trelowarren

A change from the campsite; from the rustic to the luxurious. The walled garden is reassuringly functional, although beautiful, but I was distracted by polytunnel envy. Have you ever seen a whole polytunnel full of tomatoes? It looks like heaven. Oh, and pig envy.

In reading about permaculture, I keep coming across the need for livestock to be part of the system. I am coming to the conclusion that dogs were the wrong choice for a pet and I really should have gone for pigs.

New Yard Pantry has glorious food (we had lunch one day) and the tasting menu at the restaurant is sumptuous (we ate dinner there as we drove home as a last hurrah). What made it extra special was recognising the plates. They have Simon Kneebone both in the restaurants and in the shop. I adore them. Also Silvana’s Farm Soap Co soap, which I also have at home. No seeds though…

All the best shops should sell seeds.