GARDENS How to enjoy the shapely pleasures of topiary
The whimsical art of topiary breathes life into the wintry gardens of Levens Hall BY CATRIONA GRAY
If you visit Levens Hall early on a winter’s morning, as the mist rises from the damp Cumbrian earth, you’d be forgiven for thinking you had stepped into another world, so strange is the sight that greets you. Dozens of evergreen yews, box and holly are trimmed into a surreal assortment of shapes, from classical cones and spirals to more ambitious projects, such as peacocks, a lion and even a jug of ale. The garden comes into its own during the colder months, as the fantastical trees take greater prominence, rimed with frost or caked with snow to add even more beauty to their sculptural forms.
Topiary’s golden age in England was in the late 17th century, when wealthy landowners sought to emulate the style popularised by Versailles, often importing French designers who could replicate these formal layouts. The craze was short-lived, however. The mid 18th century saw the advent of Capability Brown, famed for his parkland vistas that swept right up to the house, which meant that the formal gardens of the past were all but eradicated. Miraculously, Levens Hall not only survived, but has been maintained consistently since the 1690s, the only garden of its type to do so.
The head gardener, Chris Crowder, has been carefully clipping the trees for the past 30 years, preserving the ancient yews, as well as introducing some new topiary of his own. ‘You don’t have to decide upon the final shape straightaway,’ he says. ‘They’re still developing for the first decade, so you can gradually guide them. It might look dreadful when you first cut them, but the new growth will fill in any gaps, so you just need to be patient and keep going.’
Although box is still one of the most popular choices for topiary, the recent box blight epidemic has decimated countless gardens. At Levens Hall, a mile and a half of low hedging that bordered the flowerbeds had to be ripped out. An attempt to replace it with a holly, ilex crenata, was unsuccessful, and they are now experimenting with more disease-resistant species of buxus, to safeguard future specimens.
Yew remains the preferred choice, thanks to its resilience and size. The biggest commission for the topiary specialist James Crebbin Bailey was to create a 360-foot-long serpent from a gigantic hedge in Buckinghamshire, which he has been working on annually for a decade. He sells small pieces of ready-shaped topiary on his website, but encourages people to have a go at starting from scratch.
‘Spirals are one of the simplest shapes to create,’ he says. ‘Look for a box or yew with a single central stem, then wrap a ribbon around the plant in an even spiral and gently follow that line with a pair of shears. Remove the ribbon and cut a little deeper into the plant, rounding off the line. Initially it will look gaunt but over time, it will evolve into the perfect shape.’
‘Be bold,’ advises the garden writer and Chelsea-goldmedal winner Jane Owen. ‘It’s that first cut that takes courage.’ Her earliest foray into the art came when she impulsively carved a whale, complete with a spout, into her yew hedge in Oxfordshire. Since then, she’s downsized her plot, but has branched out into a variety of shapes, most notably dragons spewing flames. ‘Topiary gives structure and height, which is especially useful in a small garden,’ she says. ‘It’s beautiful, and above all it’s fun. Gardening can be quite a serious subject, but topiary is the one area where you can use your imagination and really run riot.’ Levens Hall (www.levenshall.co.uk). James Crebbin Bailey (www. topiaryarts.com).