For many, it is the dream—the dream to travel abroad and to walk the very grounds in which were walked upon by great literary artists long ago—their words replaying in our minds and lives today. The dream to breath in the scent of the famously fragrant roses, lovingly kept and carefully maintained . . .
. . . to take tea as was traditionally planned and created, to touch upon the stones that were laid so many years ago and to gaze up to the thatch roof lines of centuries gone by.
The heart of England lies within the very threads of its culture—the language of customs, of beauty, of traditions, of arts. Indeed, the dream does not lie in sights alone, but in scents, tastes, sounds, and feelings of the heart itself—a secret that whispers about, and if we listen, we might just catch on.
And just when most life is asleep for the duration of this winter season, we might see a whole new angle to the respected art of one of the most integral parts of England: English gardens. And in truth, the lines and forms of such spectacular gardens might be most appreciated in their simplicity, draped in alabaster frost.
. . . and so, today we ask you to join us as we set along on foot, imagining a walk in and amongst some of the greatest gardens in the world there ever were . . .
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