Reflections, Little Sparta

The Temple of Apollo, reflected in a lily pond.  If you look closely, you may notice that the building was originally a cow byre, that the columns are painted on, as are the words 'To Apollo, His Music, His Missiles, His Muses'.

Roy Strong said of this place that it was the only really original garden made in Britain since 1945.  I feel that to call it a garden is misleading - though I can't really settle on an alternative description. 

It's funny, it's quirky, it's thought-provoking, it's totally the product of the mind of the individual (Ian Hamilton Finlay) who conjured it into being. It's all groves and paths and winding ways and round the corners are pieces of sculpture, carved stones, columns, urns, stepping stones, bridges, boats, several stretches of water. It certainly isn't just about plants.  But what it is about is beyond me to describe in a few paragraphs, and I'm not even going to begin.

Luckily I discovered that my big camera wasn't in the bag before I lugged it up the track that leads up the hill. I had the little one, the battery gave up after a few shots, and the spare turned out to be the wrong size. So I was reduced to using my phone.  

Never mind, I'll be going back.  It's magic.