A Cumbrian garden with an inspired interpretation of the art of topiary

On the edge of the Cumbrian fells, where conditions are challenging and often unpredictable, a talented plantswoman has brought year-round interest to the surroundings of her Tudor house with a clear vision, a sense of place and an inspired interpretation of the art of topiary
Image may contain Outdoors Nature Graveyard Plant Tree Grass and Park
The existing topiary trees in the front garden have been added to considerably over the years, mostly with evergreen yew and box but also with deciduous plum-leafed hawthorn, which are clipped into domes to form ghostly structures.Eva Nemeth

Clipped yew columns contrast with woven frameworks of Rosa 'Ispahan'.

Eva Nemeth

Behind the house, on a long terrace, the woven basketry of six tightly pruned stems of Rosa 'Ispahan' wheel round in a vortex contrasting with the calm columns of Irish yew and mounds of box. Drystone walls, a signature of the northern uplands, enclose the formal garden and, in low winter sun, they glint and shimmer with lichen and raindrops. Yew clipped into walls and buttresses leads the eye out to the fell, grazed by sheep, the skyline a tracery of ancient oak, ash and birch, their tops sometimes scribbled by the wild, woody deformities of branches known as 'witches' brooms'.

Yew hedges edging the inner garden at the rear of the house have been clipped to frame the view of an ash tree in the parkland.

Eva Nemeth

Yew and hawthorn maintain a rhythm between the inner and outer gardens. The former is espaliered into long, skinny arms against the perimeter stone walls, reaching out to each other almost in supplication against the elements. And within the woodland that surrounds the pond, where the light contained in sky and water work off each other, Kate has taken the humble hawthorn and elevated it into an art form. The scrubby tree is a common sight in upland Britain, often wind-sculpted into knuckles and knots by weather and the livestock that use it as shelter. But here, they are clipped into 'farmhouse topiary', as Kate calls it, in a nod to the more elaborate formality of the inner garden, and happily they are thorny enough not to provide supper for the deer that roam the woods.

The bleakness of the winter fell, the tilting, tipsy chess pieces of yew and the thorny thickets of rose and pyracantha surrounding the fortified house are like the setting for a northern fairy tale. As the daylight increases, the garden takes on more colour, culminating in a peak in late summer of fiery red, deep purple and yellow ochre, which hold their own under cloudy skies, not bleached out in bright sunlight. But in the short days and low light of winter - when a gleam of sudden sun can illuminate the entire landscape for long moments - the garden, especially under a dusting of snow, lends a kind of enchantment to a place that is not easily forgotten.