Sherrill and I visited more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 year marriage. This is number 80 of a series about our lives and travels, true stories of two people discovering the world, each other, and themselves through five decades of traveling together. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series. To start at the beginning of our marriage and travels look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts are a previous series.
Sherrill and Bruce with robot friend who, oddly enough,
seemed to be the mascot at Runnymede,
where the Best of English Gardens tour began.
Sherrill and Bruce with robot friend who, oddly enough,
seemed to be the mascot at Runnymede,
where the Best of English Gardens tour began.
Norway, where the Northern Lights flirt with the midnight sun and blue ice glaciers feed the bottomless fjords, was going to be our big trip for 2014—Norway and tiny Andorra were the only countries in western Europe that we'd missed. We planned it detail, made and paid for all the reservations. After a day in London, we'd fly to Oslo, look around for a few days, then take the Bergensbanen railway line past mountains and waterfalls, seven hours on one of the world's most scenic train rides, to Bergen on Norway's western coast, where we'd board a ship for the journey north, in and out of fjords, past the Arctic Circle, then back down, visiting different fjords and towns on the way south. It all was arranged, a perfect trip.
Sherrill, on the Best of English Gardens tour, 2015 Then Sherrill's doctor discovered that something wasn't right with her. Tests revealed that cancer had, in fact, been secretly, stealthily, invading. Surgery was next, instead of Norway, followed by a year of radiation and chemotherapy. That took care of 2014. She handled it well, all things considered. Family and friends helped with driving her to treatments. A kind friend gave her a wig when her hair started falling out, folks brought meals and helped out in many ways.
As she gained strength after this year-long ordeal, she discovered a Best of English Gardens tour that she wanted to do to celebrate her recovery: visiting some of the most famous and iconic gardens of England, ending with the annual Chelsea Flower Show in London. Her oncologist said that there was no reason why she shouldn't take the trip.
"I can do this," she told me, as we packed. "Don't worry."
As she gained strength after this year-long ordeal, she discovered a Best of English Gardens tour that she wanted to do to celebrate her recovery: visiting some of the most famous and iconic gardens of England, ending with the annual Chelsea Flower Show in London. Her oncologist said that there was no reason why she shouldn't take the trip.
"I can do this," she told me, as we packed. "Don't worry."
As we'd traveled around the world, we'd prowled through many gardens: from lush tropical gardens in Asia and Latin America to austere French gardens with broad paths, topiary trees, and precise flower beds; from walled Moorish and Spanish gardens, often hidden in courtyards, to the rambling countryside gardens of the British isles; from stylized Japanese gardens with carefully raked gravel riverbeds and perfectly placed rocks to the delicately hued gardens of old China.
Sherrill's favorite gardens, the ones most congenial to her, were the deceptively casual-appearing gardens of England, with their planted "rooms" of different colors and textures and their herbaceous borders that offered unexpected delights to the eye. This was the style that had influenced Sherrill when she designed and created her own garden in Berkeley.
Sherrill's favorite gardens, the ones most congenial to her, were the deceptively casual-appearing gardens of England, with their planted "rooms" of different colors and textures and their herbaceous borders that offered unexpected delights to the eye. This was the style that had influenced Sherrill when she designed and created her own garden in Berkeley.
Sherrill in hidden nook, Fenton House garden, Hampstead, London For centuries, gardens had inspired, teased, and charmed British writers, painters, and lovers. Even in lousy weather, the British pulled on their boots and slickers and energetically mucked about in the flowerbeds. Everyone had a theory about gardening and shared it, if given a chance. They were generous with their experience and knowledge, offered advice, and wished you well with your own gardening efforts.
Gardens, I think, gave Sherrill hope. These living, growing, places of beauty promised that there would be a future. Seeds would germinate, plants would grow, flowers would blossom. They attracted and nurtured birds, butterflies, and bees. The tour visited many of the most famous and influential English gardens, ranging from very personal ones such as Wendy Dare's little hillside terraces next to an old Gloustershire mill to the large, formal, gardens of Stourhead in Wiltshire and Hidcote Manor in the Cotswolds to the eccentricities of writer Vita Sackville-West's garden rambling among the ruins of a castle.
We allowed ourselves time in London, both before and after the tour, to visit other gardens in the vicinity, as well. A short trip on the Underground took us to Hampstead, where we walked up a curving hillside road to Fenton House, a 17th century red brick National Trust mansion with a terraced walled garden, topiary shrubs and trees, sunken garden, and rose garden.
"I've seen this before," Sherrill said as she sat on a bench beneath a purple wisteria on the upper terrace, looking toward the house.
Then we both remembered where: The gardens had been one of the locations in a BBC miniseries about a 1930s jazz band, Dancing on the Edge. It projected the posh yet stylish atmosphere needed for the scene.
Gardens, I think, gave Sherrill hope. These living, growing, places of beauty promised that there would be a future. Seeds would germinate, plants would grow, flowers would blossom. They attracted and nurtured birds, butterflies, and bees. The tour visited many of the most famous and influential English gardens, ranging from very personal ones such as Wendy Dare's little hillside terraces next to an old Gloustershire mill to the large, formal, gardens of Stourhead in Wiltshire and Hidcote Manor in the Cotswolds to the eccentricities of writer Vita Sackville-West's garden rambling among the ruins of a castle.
We allowed ourselves time in London, both before and after the tour, to visit other gardens in the vicinity, as well. A short trip on the Underground took us to Hampstead, where we walked up a curving hillside road to Fenton House, a 17th century red brick National Trust mansion with a terraced walled garden, topiary shrubs and trees, sunken garden, and rose garden.
"I've seen this before," Sherrill said as she sat on a bench beneath a purple wisteria on the upper terrace, looking toward the house.
Then we both remembered where: The gardens had been one of the locations in a BBC miniseries about a 1930s jazz band, Dancing on the Edge. It projected the posh yet stylish atmosphere needed for the scene.
Sherrill, Eccleston Square greenhouse, London Even more exciting for Sherrill was a visit to Eccleston Square, a large fenced garden for the early 19th century homes surrounding the square, opened to the public as a fund raiser once a year. The garden had been redesigned by a well-known author and gardener Sherrill had seen on television. We wandered along the garden paths and peered into a large potting shed, Sherrill making notes, enjoyed tea and cake under an arbor, then by chance met the old fellow, now in his eighties. He and Sherrill immediately were friends, talking about the garden, his books, and his ideas about gardening.
A visit with our friends David and Catherine had been high on our list, so we took a train out to see them in Richmond. After drinks in the secret garden behind their house (tulips and ceanothus still in bloom), followed by lunch, they drove us to vast Richmond Park nearby, where we spied grazing deer among green fields and trees before reaching a section known as the Isabella Plantation. A stroll among blooming trees and shrubs left us goggle-eyed: giant azaleas and rhododendrons of startling shades of red, pink, white, yellow, and peach—even purple and blue—as far as we could see in every direction. Apparently, the deer knew that they all were poisonous.
 Corner of Catherine and David's secret garden, near London and Catherine, David, and Sherrill at the Isabella Plantation, Richmond Park |  |
Barnsley House, Cirencester, Cotswolds We joined the Best of English Gardens tour at Runnymede, where we saw brightly painted narrow boats cruising along the river, then headed off with the group into the Cotswold hills. The plan seemed to be two great gardens a day, with lunch in between. Sherrill had managed quite well so far with walking, but we hoped that the garden visits would give her opportunities to rest, now and then.
Rosemary Verey was a formidable name among serious gardeners, so Sherrill was pleased when we began with gardens that Verey designed in the 1950s for the 17th century manor, Barnsley House. Following the paths leading from the mansion, we discovered lawns framed by topiary plantings, herbaceous borders in full bloom, knot gardens, a laburnum walk, and ornamental fruit and vegetable gardens, each section rich with gorgeous, sometimes whimsical, surprises.
Of course, Sherrill pulled out her notebook and pen and began jotting down ideas. She soon made friends with other gardeners on the tour, especially a woman from Massachusetts who had two homes with gardens and a landscape gardener from Grass Valley in northern California.
Rosemary Verey was a formidable name among serious gardeners, so Sherrill was pleased when we began with gardens that Verey designed in the 1950s for the 17th century manor, Barnsley House. Following the paths leading from the mansion, we discovered lawns framed by topiary plantings, herbaceous borders in full bloom, knot gardens, a laburnum walk, and ornamental fruit and vegetable gardens, each section rich with gorgeous, sometimes whimsical, surprises.
Of course, Sherrill pulled out her notebook and pen and began jotting down ideas. She soon made friends with other gardeners on the tour, especially a woman from Massachusetts who had two homes with gardens and a landscape gardener from Grass Valley in northern California.
Mill Dene, the afternoon's garden, was completely different, built on a steep slope cut into many terraces, above a stream and historic mill. Wendy Dare, who created it, led us around, stressing that she and her husband had built every part of it by hand, themselves.
"Every terrace, large or small, every path and step, all the plantings and beds. We weren't rich, so we couldn't hire it done, but we loved doing it."
"Sounds familiar," Sherrill smiled.
* * *
"Every terrace, large or small, every path and step, all the plantings and beds. We weren't rich, so we couldn't hire it done, but we loved doing it."
"Sounds familiar," Sherrill smiled.
* * *
 Sherrill making notes in garden "room," Hidcote |  Sherrill & friend in "wilderness garden," Hidcote Manor |
Within the golden walls surrounding Hidcote Manor, we discovered a variety of linked gardens. Joining our new friends, we made our way through doorways cut into hedges and brick garden walls, past rows of precisely pruned trees, along brick and gravel paths, and up and down flights of steps. These were the much-copied garden "rooms" created by Lawrence Johnston beginning around 1900. We'd pass through an arch cut into a yew hedge or through a wrought iron gate and discover a Fuschia Garden or Poppy Garden or his famous Long Walk. These different growing spaces, Sherrill told me, had been designed to slowly unfold, revealing a new vista or atmosphere at each turn. She had read Johnston's books and tried some of his ideas in her own much smaller Berkeley garden.
"He was influenced by Gertrude Jekyll," she reminded me, with tap of her notebook on my shoulder.
To a gardener, that was like saying he was influenced by Leonardo or Rembrandt.
"He was influenced by Gertrude Jekyll," she reminded me, with tap of her notebook on my shoulder.
To a gardener, that was like saying he was influenced by Leonardo or Rembrandt.
After lunch, we saw something totally different: a grand house and its hillside garden in what once was called the "Indian style." Sezincote House, designed by Samuel Pepys Cockerell in 1805, was built when British India was becoming the "jewel in the crown" of the empire, flaunting a Mughal-style dome and arched windows, with gardens that showed the Hindu-style influence of natural-looking ponds and walkways with spots to sit and meditate, a temple withthe goddess Souriya, a pavilion curving from the house. When the Prince Regent visited, he liked it so much that he changed his vision for the Brighton Pavilion from Chinese to Indian.
"You're not making notes, now," I mentioned to Sherrill.
"Nothing here inspires me."
"You're not making notes, now," I mentioned to Sherrill.
"Nothing here inspires me."
Then there was Stourhead, on our itinerary, but more vast park than garden. It had more in common with Richmond Park than any manor. Its meadows, forested hills and paths, lakes and streams, were speckled with classical temples, grottos and follies, classical statues and bridges, even a weathered water wheel.
Once again, Sherrill didn't bother to make notes.
* * *
Once again, Sherrill didn't bother to make notes.
* * *
Sissinghurst gardens from the Tower The day we returned to Sissinghurst clouds were bumbling across a blue sky overhead. We'd been here in 1968, but had been eager to see it again. Walking through the arched brick gate into the first garden "room," we stopped to catch our breath. The years had given the garden a new polish. It had seemed more of a work in progress, before. Of course, we reminded ourselves, all gardens were a work in progress. Nothing alive was static.
Novelist and gardener, Vita Sackville-West, with her diplomat husband, Harold Nicolson, created a unique world when they transformed the ruins of a fortified manor house into their personal retreat and garden.
Climbing to the top of the sixteenth century tower, we could see the garden's various "rooms"— the "white garden" and other beds with spring blossoms opening, tulips, bluebells, wisteria, roses, azaleas, and more. Our garden didn't have a moat to cope with, as Vita famously wrote about in one of her gardening books, but Sherrill did pick up some ideas from the planting arrangements and color combinations. Maybe the most important lesson was to be fearless. If something doesn't work, change it.
Novelist and gardener, Vita Sackville-West, with her diplomat husband, Harold Nicolson, created a unique world when they transformed the ruins of a fortified manor house into their personal retreat and garden.
Climbing to the top of the sixteenth century tower, we could see the garden's various "rooms"— the "white garden" and other beds with spring blossoms opening, tulips, bluebells, wisteria, roses, azaleas, and more. Our garden didn't have a moat to cope with, as Vita famously wrote about in one of her gardening books, but Sherrill did pick up some ideas from the planting arrangements and color combinations. Maybe the most important lesson was to be fearless. If something doesn't work, change it.
On our way to the Royal Horticultural Society Gardens at Wisley, we saw a sign next to a private driveway warning "Trespassers Will Be Composted." The society, founded in 1804, developed, tested, and gave advice about flowers and plants, helped educate gardeners, and promoted gardening with flower shows—a very English kind of organization, it seemed to me. Walking among the Wisley gardens gave Sherrill lots of good ideas, but the place was vast. After a while, we relaxed and just enjoyed the beauty.
Sherrill particularly had wanted to see Great Dixter, a 15th century house and garden to which gardeners from around the world made pilgrimages. She'd read the books by Christopher Lloyd, who'd spent more than 40 years transforming the garden, experimenting with ideas about plant combinations, colors, scale, and texture. Although she didn't always agree with his theories, she'd incorporated some of his ideas into our garden—especially about herbaceous borders.
"They really should be called masala borders," Sherrill said, with twinkle, using the Hindu word meaning "a mixture."
Sherrill particularly had wanted to see Great Dixter, a 15th century house and garden to which gardeners from around the world made pilgrimages. She'd read the books by Christopher Lloyd, who'd spent more than 40 years transforming the garden, experimenting with ideas about plant combinations, colors, scale, and texture. Although she didn't always agree with his theories, she'd incorporated some of his ideas into our garden—especially about herbaceous borders.
"They really should be called masala borders," Sherrill said, with twinkle, using the Hindu word meaning "a mixture."
 Herbaceous border, Great Dixter |  Garden, Great Dixter |
Lloyd had been dead almost seven years when we were at Great Dixter, but with his head gardener, Fergus Garrett, he had created a program of young gardeners coming from around the world for two years each to learn gardening the Christopher Lloyd way. One of the young gardeners gave us a tour. Even more exciting for Sherrill, she managed to talk with Fergus Garrett about how he was using and adapting Lloyd's ideas.
Back in London, we spent most of a day at the Royal Horticultural Society's Flower Show in Chelsea. The day before, the Queen had officially opened it and the next day it would be opened to the general public. Some people had dressed up for the occasion, as if they were going to the Ascot races, others not so much. Although there were a number of large indoor pavilions, the big garden displays that competed for prizes were outside. The grand prize went to a garden sponsored by the Chatsworth Manor estate.
Back in London, we spent most of a day at the Royal Horticultural Society's Flower Show in Chelsea. The day before, the Queen had officially opened it and the next day it would be opened to the general public. Some people had dressed up for the occasion, as if they were going to the Ascot races, others not so much. Although there were a number of large indoor pavilions, the big garden displays that competed for prizes were outside. The grand prize went to a garden sponsored by the Chatsworth Manor estate.
Chelsea Flower Show exhibit of garden statues "That just shows the power of money," Sherrill said. "Those huge rocks brought all the way from Chatsworth. Not what I call a garden."
However, she did collect a number of ideas from the display gardens. This was the end of our tour, so the next day the two of us took a train to the coastal town of Rye, which she had wanted to see for a long time, particularly Lamb House and garden, where Henry James had lived for several years. The Chelsea Flower Show wore her out, so a train ride was a chance to rest.
However, she did collect a number of ideas from the display gardens. This was the end of our tour, so the next day the two of us took a train to the coastal town of Rye, which she had wanted to see for a long time, particularly Lamb House and garden, where Henry James had lived for several years. The Chelsea Flower Show wore her out, so a train ride was a chance to rest.
A little town clinging to steep streets above the English Channel, many of its buildings from the Middle Ages, Rye was a good place to relax after more than two weeks on the road. Our hotel, the Mermaid Inn, was 500 years old, but comfortable—despite creaky floors and groaning stairs. A short walk away, we found the brick house where Henry James had lived and its walled garden. We even indulged in tea and cookies while sitting among the spring blossoms.
 Sherrill, Mermaid Inn lounge, Rye |  Lamb House and garden, Rye |
We ate the best meal of the trip—a fusion of south Indian, English, and French cuisines—the next day in a little restaurant on a side street. We enjoyed the wonderful food while looking through a window at the remains of a medieval monastery next door. When we toasted each other with glasses of wine, the waitress got the idea that it was our anniversary and at the end of the meal brought us a "present" from the chef: a little cake on which he'd written "Happy Anniversary."
Sherrill in Rye restaurant On the train back to London, we shared a compartment with two French couples drinking champagne from wine glasses and their three kids. One little girl stared at us, when she wasn't licking the window. One morning in London, we took the Tube to the Canal Boat Museum. One of our favorite trips had been when we rented a narrow boat with Simone and Paul and guided it along the Llangollen Canal from Chester into Wales. After a couple of hours exploring the museum, we took a narrow boat tour into the Regents Canal and through the second longest tunnel in Britain, built in 1820.
"I love this," Sherrill whispered, squeezing my arm.
"I love this," Sherrill whispered, squeezing my arm.
Horace Walpole's Strawberry Hill House and gardens in Twickenham was a surprise to Sherrill. A strange place of witch's hat-topped towers, arched windows, turrets and battlements, and other gothic nonsense, it was appropriate for the author of The Castle of Otranto—plus an array of strange cat statues posing in the "garden."
"Maybe, if you call a place a garden," Sherrill said, staring at the human-sized cats frolicking on the grass, "it is."
"Maybe, if you call a place a garden," Sherrill said, staring at the human-sized cats frolicking on the grass, "it is."
The next day, Sherrill got a longer boat ride when we took a ferry from the Embankment Pier in central London along the Thames all the way to Canary Wharf in London's East End to see the London Docklands museum. The area, called Poplar, for decades a slum, had been transformed into the new financial center of London. We had lunch at an outside restaurant, surrounded by the glittering banking towers that now stood where docks, warehouses, and slum apartments used to sprawl.
Two more days in London took us to William Morris's Red House at Blexleyheath and Kensington Palace and Gardens, all enjoyable, but we were ready go home. It had been a good trip, even though a lot of it was a challenge for Sherrill. Nevertheless, as the weeks and months went by, we started making plans for more trips and good times together.
Two more days in London took us to William Morris's Red House at Blexleyheath and Kensington Palace and Gardens, all enjoyable, but we were ready go home. It had been a good trip, even though a lot of it was a challenge for Sherrill. Nevertheless, as the weeks and months went by, we started making plans for more trips and good times together.
 Sherrill, Canary Wharf, Docklands, London |  Sherrill, William Morris's Red House |
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