“$27! Is it worth that much?” Lorraine was clearly concerned about the cost. This was the entry fee after we’d just eaten a relatively expensive (but simply scrumptious) lunch.
“Actually, it’s $30 if you’re a proper adult, not like us old farts.” I couldn’t help but put in the latter expression that I know Lorraine isn’t totally happy with.
Still, from where we stood it was hard to imagine there was something special nearby, even though there was ample evidence that it was popular. I had trouble coming to terms with the fact that here, seemingly miles from nowhere, there could possibly be a tourist attraction of such note that people would drive for hours just to view.
The café I could understand, but they had a well-stocked nursery in addition. I mean, who would drive this far to buy some plants? That was a question that would be answered, much to my surprise, in a few hours’ time.
Oberon is a town with a reputation of being cold. Winters can be miserable when the south winds cast a freeze over the land and ice hangs from the boughs. Outdoors there is no respite and only hardy vegetation survives. Mayfield Garden is beyond Oberon, further into the void so to speak.
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Today a benign sun shone through intermittent puffy white clouds and it seemed right to just be outside. The first thing about the garden that dominates you is a hedge, so called, yet rarely had we ever seen one as tall as this. Its horseshoe shape that straddles an as-yet-unseen pool. At four-metres-high it dominated the skyline and it wasn’t until we circled around from the back that the obelisk, a la Egyptian but without inscription, became visible. It towered over the pond, twice as high as the hedgerow. You half expect some water to burst forth but nay, it wasn’t about to happen, so we veered left through a pathed gap and then we were, well, somewhere special, that was obvious.
We’ve travelled to gardens in Europe, Canada and Japan, but Mayfield simply blew us away, and we’d only reached the Water Garden, little did we know what was to follow. Of course, they provide you with a map but you’re so continually gobsmacked by what’s on view that you mostly forget to look at it.
The aptly named garden has large ponds connected by waterfalls and is traversed by bridges. No sooner has one colour drawn your attention than another is vying for it. Reds, yellows, whites, violets and all backed by various shades of green while a symphony of splashing water plays in the background.
The twisted path that winds through is smooth sandstone, matching the landscaping done on an epic scale that beggars the imagination. A couple of stone bridges add further lustre to the scene, making sure your camera finger is never still.
You’ve seen enough, can’t stop talking about it but, as you exit and cast your eyes up the hill towards the house, it’s time to consult your map. No, you’ve not seen a quarter of it yet!
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The path leads next to the grotto, a classic Italian inspired work where you walk in a sandstone cave behind a waterfall. How long it took to construct this leaves you shaking your head as you walk further, because, in the distance, you’ve noticed a Japanese-style pagoda overlooking a lake. In the lush turf beside the waters your legs are at ease in the carpet-like surface. Thick swathes of raised garden rise up the slope beside you, new plantings of even more exotic vegetation.
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