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We moved to Nethercote many years ago. The house, an old Cotswold manor, was in a state of disrepair and there was no garden to speak of. Well, there were daffodils planted regimentally, a few shrubs scattered about and cattle grazing up to the house.
Over the years that followed barns were repaired and a fine one built, lawns were laid and hedges were planted. In the shelter of their lee a beautiful garden was created. Across the river a wild garden was born. The way in which it ran seamlessly into the nature beyond made the garden special. The river was at the heart of the garden but drew nature to it, both fauna and flora, whilst taking your eye, on a dream, into the country.
I will particularly miss June evenings in the garden at Nethercote and I will dearly miss my father, Norman, who worked so hard with my mother to help create it.