We Embrace Great Dixter Once Again «

We Embrace Great Dixter Once Again

Saturday 18th May 2013

Today, Val, one of our noblest Poor Little Rich Gays, at present unsauced, takes 56 years. He’s lunching near Grosvenor Square with some other friends. The plan is a Scottish walking outfit but done in chiffon to disconcert, with heather-mixture brooch – i.e. amethysts, topaz and diamonds. But perhaps glass for economy.

So the first of at least three annual visits to Great Dixter has taken place. Angus Willis, hero of Hastings, and I abandoned the aftermath of the Hastings May Day spring green festival, which was relaxed pub life, for Dixter.

Dixter never fails, despite the near dead tree in the front meadow – just a pole with a few leaves at the top which has been there for years. Dixter never fails. Never, never, never. Which is strange for a Poor Little Rich Gay mecca. Not even the death of C Lloyd has interrupted Dixter’s stream of magnificence. On and on it goes.

Angus Willis has not always embraced Dixter though. He has turned away from Dixter: too messy, too many colours, overcrowded. But he was keen to go, strangely.

The utter thrill each year of coming up the garden path. Always something new awaits, yet Dixter never changes. C. Lloyd hated good taste, couldn’t give a damn yet knew what he was doing.

So we forge into the top garden. My God, they’re using ‘Shirley’, the most fearsome anaemic tulip, pearl with a mauve edge. Of course it’s a miracle. They’ve put ‘Shirley’ with grey and silver foliage and four huge euphorbias with their lime-green flowers. It’s a concept but not a bit self-important. ‘Shirley’ is just the right choice. On we go, more and more enraptured by tulips in outrageous colours, outrageously neighboured. Transports of joy. Whoever planned and planted was seized with joy. Angus is bending and takes photographs. We reach the Long Border (always the Dixter pilgrimage follows the same route). The huge yellow Euonymus is such a challenge. I’ve struggled with it before. It’s sickly-looking, variegated, evergreen – everything’s wrong with it. But suddenly, from a certain angle, you see the point.

Finally, Angus yielded and submitted to Dixter.