Artichokes and aristocracy

There is a stately home, not far from home, that I like to visit from time to time. For over 300 years the Cannon Hall was home to the Spencer/Stanhope family who made their fortune from the iron industry. A residential dwelling no longer, the Hall is now a museum and visitor attraction.

While the crowds flock towards the cash-cows of the enterprise (namely the farm, its adjacent shops and eateries) the grounds often remain quiet and peaceful.

As you look out across the large gardens and over the hillside to the neighbouring village you could be forgiven for forgetting the large walled garden that hides to the right of the Hall. Accessible only by two narrow, iron gates the walled garden is home to a large vegetable patch, neat lawns, fruit trees and greenhouses. I can just imagine the tenants of old strolling in the garden, wearing their finery before taking tea on the terrace or retiring for an elegant dinner.

Last Friday, neither expecting an elaborate meal nor dressed in my finery I visited the walled garden. Aside from a few gardeners who were quietly going about their business, my son and I were the only ones there. As JC explored, played in the dirt and splashed in the puddles from the recent downpour, I walked along the cinder paths enjoying the peace and fresh air.

Vegetable gardens are not the most exciting of places at this time of year (to some they are never exciting but not me – I love them), there isn’t much colour – maybe a few green tops from the overwintering vegetables – and the ground is cold, wet and harsh. But, from time to time even the harshest environment throws up a surprise. 

Until last year I had never handled nor eaten an artichoke and until my visit to the walled garden last week I had never seen one growing in the ground but there they were. Two flower-like globe artichokes just waiting to be admired (and then picked, boiled and served with butter or hollandaise). 

Small white stakes along the edge of the path covered in neat handwriting suggested that during the growing season this place has been a hive of activity. Peas, cabbages, carrots, herbs and kales – the stakes seemed endless. Right at the very end of the beds a small patch of bright lights chard were still clinging on for life, their vibrant red stems bringing  a tiny dash of colour to this promising patch.

Further on, towards the back of the garden renovations of a huge old wooden-framed glass house were beginning. Rotten and broken from years of neglect you could see the potential in this mighty structure for growing heat loving edibles such as grapes, tomatoes and chillies. 

All around the walled perimeter were gnarled, ancient pear trees. Bare of leaves or fruit but full of tales of old. Wrinkled and bent, they were like tired old women, full of wisdom and knowledge.

I always love my trip to the walled garden. Even now, a few days on, I can see ghosts of the gentry who once walked these cinder paths. Who took tea on the terraces and courted their ladies on the perfectly manicured lawns. Who were waited on in the relative luxury of their Hall by a small army of devoted staff. Who lived a life that few, during that period, were privy to.

• Thanks to Barnsley Council for information on the Spencer/Stanhope family. 
• Cannon Hall farm* and farm shop is run as a separate entity from Cannon Hall House and Gardens. 
• All of the photographs in this post are my own apart from the first picture of the Hall which is courtesy of Wikipedia.
  

Related articles

• Day 8 – Bright light chard (teacupstyling.com)
• Day 7 – Globe artichoke (teacupstyling.com)
• Artichoke and Celeriac – Beautiful Tasting (jitterycook.com)