The weather is holding on: twenty-seven degrees and sunny.
I should not be surprised maybe- I remember that last year Easter time weather was splendid, and the Kew gardens were marvelous under the sun. However, knowing how fleeting the weather can be in this country, I stole half a day from a Sunday in which I would otherwise have condemned myself to work, and went to Mottisfont House in Romsey.
What is it in the British that makes them design gardens in which one feels and moves like on the set of a movie? Sceneries in which one participates of the view, but at the same time one also feels just as if he is the main character of a long shot? In which the appearing and disappearing of the people in the folds of the landscape reminds one of the twists of a plot by Jane Austen? (And isn't there just one such scene in Mansfield Park? Where all the characters walk in the park, and prodigious developments follow?)
The roses in the walled garden are still sleeping- only some late irises and some rosemary bush (the latter must be rubbing its eyes at its good luck for this time of the year), are spreading scent.
The wisteria on the South side of the house is in bloom, and the Test walk revealed a sweet surprise- what this flower growing underwater is, I don't know; but it is so beautiful.
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