Breenhold Gardens was about finding beauty in miserable conditions. The rain fell at a drizzle interspersed with showers. The cold cut to the bone. The day I chose to wind my way through the foliage was the day our Indian Summer finally broke.
Mists of fog rolled in and out of the trees. The grey gloom highlighting yellow leaves that had stayed true to their seasons, despite the heat that had held the reds at bay.
Remnants of summer flowers holding on long past their time of turning to seed. An illusion of three season in once place. Summer, Autumn and Winter working together to weave the fairy tale secret garden of storybooks.
Mossy walls and a labyrinth of stone arches leading from garden to garden. Each unique, each spectacular. Each with it’s own story to tell. Breenhold is a place to become a child again and wander through the world as though it is your own magic castle grounds.
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Breenhold Gardens is the best known of a collection of gardens that open at various times of year in Mount Wilson, NSW, Australia. I went for the autumn colour – one or two weekends a year it is at its peak. Our long Sydney summer had left the colour only half turned. The conglomeration of seasonal displays made for an experience that might have been disappointing for Autumn colour but magical for a brain wired to see seasons one at a time and not as an all sorts mixed bag of lollies happening simultaneously. Entry is $10 and it is worth twice that at least.
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