IN THE STEPS OF VITA & HAROLD
In this Kentish garden – the first created by Vita Sackville-west and Harold Nicolson – thick snow defines the underlying structure in all its ‘wonky loveliness’
In this Kentish garden – the first created by Vita Sackville-west and Harold Nicolson – thick snow defines the underlying structure in all its ‘wonky loveliness’
The transformational effect of snow is always magical in a garden, especially one as iconic as Long Barn Gardens near Sevenoaks in Kent. Ninety years may have passed since it was gardened by Harold and Vita, but on this winter’s day, both the house and garden would be instantly recognisable to the couple. Snow caps the sentinel yews, defines and outlines the hedges and reveals the pattern of the box parterres in all their intricate beauty. Little has changed, and without the distraction of the colour that fills the borders for most of the year, it is evident how enduring Harold’s design has proved to be. The house is the perfect backdrop to the garden and overlooks a series of generous terraces that run steeply downhill from north to south, each bounded by hedges laid out in a repetitive theme of L-shapes that echo the building.
Taking on a property where both house and garden are listed would daunt many of us, but after a few “What have we done?” moments in the early days, Rebecca Lemonius and her husband Lars have spent the past 13 years ensuring it remains true to the ethos of Vita and Harold. “We bought Long Barn for the house and the garden
– they are inseparable,” Rebecca says. “We were hugely helped by the previous owners. They were a source of great knowledge and so approachable that they made it all feel doable. I came to realise that, in essence, it’s a fancy cottage garden laid out using natural materials. There’s no definitive planting plan – nothing was documented – so we don’t feel obliged to plant particular plants. And Vita was an amateur gardener herself, so I didn’t feel overly burdened.”
When Vita and Harold moved to Long Barn in 1915, there was no garden – just rough slopes – but since Vita had come from Knole, where the house alone covered four acres, it probably didn’t occur to her that it was an ambitious undertaking for a newly married couple in their mid-twenties.
Vita carried out much of the work in the garden herself, even the structural stuff. Her mother, known as Bonne Mama, was so alarmed by Vita’s penchant for menial work that she paid for a gardener. At the time, Bonne Mama was having an affair with the famous architect Sir Edwin Lutyens, and she persuaded him to provide informal advice regarding both the house and the garden. It was his idea to create the six L-shaped raised beds in the lowest part of the garden where waterlogging was a problem
because of the impenetrable clay soil. This is now appropriately known as the Lutyens Garden.
Because it was laid out piecemeal as land acquisition and money allowed, not much is entirely straight or square in the garden, and this rather adds to its charm. By the time the couple moved to Sissinghurst, Harold had mastered formal design, but Vita’s planting style remained the same: “cram, cram, cram”. In many ways, this garden connects more directly to the couple than Sissinghurst does. It’s been privately owned and loved by people who have made no radical changes and value what they have inherited in all its wonky loveliness, whereas the tidiness of Sissinghurst doesn’t really reflect Vita’s style. In recent years, the National Trust has come to realise this, and is making conscious efforts to return it to the less-orderly ways of its original chatelaine.
Taking on a garden that has been made by someone else can be tricky, even if it lacks an illustrious past. You may be smitten by its charms, but remember to ask about the soil, the aspect and the prevailing winds. Check if the current owners are taking any of the plants with them, otherwise those roses that you so admire may not be there when you move in. The cascading climbers might look spectacular, but is the pergola on the point of collapse, and will the moss-covered paths become hazardously slippery in winter? These things needn’t stop you buying but it’s better to know about them before it becomes your garden.
Sometimes change is necessary. At Long Barn, the yews that are so central to the garden are suffering because of their location and climate change. If they can’t be saved, Rebecca would consider replacing them with fastigiate hornbeams of a similar shape, as they would deal so much better with the Wealden clay:
“It would be very sad, but a garden is a living thing and we have to work with nature.”
Rebecca and Lars knew full well what they were taking on. “The house is totally illogical; there are many rooms without any real function except quirkiness and charm,” Rebecca says. “The garden sometimes feels unnecessarily large, but then Vita never did anything small.” Nevertheless, Rebecca considers it a blessing to work in a garden that has been ‘done’ well. “It provides a wonderful foil for the planting that can be our main focus,” she says. And when your garden has been ‘done’ by Vita and Harold, you can count yourself as very fortunate indeed.
“The garden sometimes feels unnecessarily large, but then Vita never did anything small”