Castle Hill situated above the Bray River plain, with daffodil sprigged drive and ornamental stone bridge were built for horse and carriage rather than coach, still retains its iron estate railings from WWII demise. The country mansion’s stateliness is enhanced by hill top trees above and below the formal terraced lawns with garden statutory, as well as the follies and ornamental plantations on the surrounding hillsides.
In full bloom camelias, magnolias and a large rhododendron grove lend warmth and soften the stark Palladian pale ochre walls, ornamental stone work and the Sunset temple. The millennium garden which enchants as ‘through the looking glass’, with formal evergreen and deciduous topiary and narrow grass paths with moss covered lavender edging. Beds of roses cradled over rustic supports, their few inches of green and red leaves giving colour to green clumps of fox gloves, grape hyacinths, lily of the valley, geranium and the red peony leaves interspersed by pulmonaria, all bursting through rich soil. Adjacent to a blossoming tree and ‘stone throne’, two greyhounds lie sentinel looking down to tea rooms; a broad gravel walk and ornate balustrade below the terraced lawns.
While the facilities may not be up to NT standard, the picturesque tea room, reminiscent of a cricket pavilion, provided excellent sustenance and view ofa hillside church set around by trees above swans and a cascade glinting in the cold sunshine. A lawnmower was doing sterling work over the lawns, where ornate pedestal urns edge the balustraded walk and dark lead sphinx, interspaced with Irish yews, take the eye up to more balustrading and mansion. The flag of St George streaming in the breeze in front of a cupula topped by green roof and glinting brass ball, reminiscent mosques.
To the west Filleigh Brook ornamented by mature trees and unexpected vistas, beyond a carpeting of primroses and violets. A dog sits guarding the pets cemetery set amidst daffodils and snakes head fritillary below a magnolia stellate and flowering garlic. Above red rhododendron clash with pink camellia; beech trees loom over from on high to the accompaniment of bird song; and grassy paths, under tunnels of magnolia, offer a glimpse of a glittering cascade, to the accompaniment of rushing water. Sybil’s Cave, small and wet offers less shelter than the Satyr’s Temple opposite, but the way over Ugly Bridge is barred, surreal it turns into a redbrick shed on leaving the river below.
The high tops of tall evergreens brush and sway in the breeze, the river lost from hearing, at their feet is the magnolia wood flowering in pink and white, and beyond a conifer plantation adds a dark edginess. Two huge conifers stand guard, bark wrinkled with age, their pine cones nestled among moss opens their leaves. High up on one a silver tag hangs and I wonder if placed there when a young sapling, or if an exceptionally long ladder was employed. Laurel scent drifts across from grass and trees swamped by hilltop runoff, so no fear of summer drought.
A foreboding lodge opposite two piers denoting a grassy drive back but I take the high road up to the sunset temple for blurry views across to Lundy Isle. It is not yet sunset so to the castle; imagination creates pennants flying atop battlements and a glittering knight rides past the stand of trees. In reality, the castle is reminiscent of Bath’s Sham Castle. A dark retaining wall surrounds the mound, breeze dissipates, and on entry there is evidence of the once banqueting hall. Later staff accommodation, the rooms with a view of large fields tucked in around wooded corridors, but the miniature cannons are not likely to deter Mr Putin.
Cock pheasants are in full cry, the brook’s river song below blossoming trees, like the elvish lights of Rivendell. Above a spiritual diversion of stone cross within an aisle of beech trees and Wm Staywell 1833 words, ‘Here stranger pause and all thy thoughts bestow on natures works the sylvian scene below…’.
The head of a deeply imbibed Bacchus directs back down to the Sunrise temple and the full extent of the Devon’s longest camelia hedge, beyond, the river meanders below further hillside temples and arch. Finally at juxtaposition to all this grandeur is the blue, home sweet home, of a resident who produces that which induces rhubarb to grow.
Text and photos by Sarah Herring