I grew up visiting Wrest Park in Bedfordshire, this stately home was a magical playground for my sisters and I, its follys, the orangery and the roman bath house were facinating to me, its the ultimate garden really.
Our own garden was filled with its own magic and wonder for me, such is the brilliance of childhood, children will always find the magic in the simplist of places. I remember creating my own folly of sorts, stacking bricks and imagining unknown animals living in the dark gaps inbetween.
The pile of pots was taken in my Dads current garden, while its spacious, this unremarkable neglected corner interested me more than anything else. New plant life finding a way around the neglected pots and tubs.
The struggle of these grand houses and gardens to keep up the seamless appearance maintained in their heyday, allows a new fragile beauty.
The staue above has been in the family garden for many years and taken quite a bashing. I remember it having eyes at one time and both ears certainly! My Dad is in the process of moving and is letting ,e rescue it, it would be undesireable for most people I’m sure, but the state its in tells its story. In the world I created in my childhood garden, this creature watched over me as I played.