Stranica 447 [447]
OCR
BLOOMFIELD ZS) go to the garden at Bloomfield, you leave the GE hee main road five miles west of the University of | Virginia, cross the crest of a hill and descend into the chill, damp atmosphere of a little hollow, which 6 ) Ht rates seems to have a cool climate of its own, no ES matter how hot the day elsewhere. 1hen the lane, whose red clay banks are hung with honeysuckle vines, leads up a steep incline, and you find yourself at the gates of Bloomfield. ‘The lawn, shaded by elm and gingko trees, slopes from the big brick house on the summit down to the gates, where the road separates, forming a huge circle up to the door. The garden cannot be seen from the front, although you may go into it through a small gate in the hedge; but the proper entrance, and the one most used, is from the door at the east end of the house. Descending the steps, one first emerges from a mass of box-bushes and spiraea grown to the height of trees. Ihese are probably the oldest plants in the garden, unless the veteran oak, which towers above the tiny masonry of the bird’s bath, is more ancient, and next, I am sure, is the gnarled old seckel pear tree in a far corner, still bountifully bearing its reddish-gold fruit in the fall. However, there are a number of shrubs, quantities of figs, and some roses still living which were also residents of the orig- _ inal garden, planned and planted nearly a century ago by Paul Goodloe, a native of Louisiana, who built the house. When the box-trees are passed, there spreads before one a level plateau, enclosed on three sides by a high hedge, at the foot of which is a wide, well-kept border of flowers. In the center of the plateau stands a summer-house, built of stone by the present owner, with tiled floor, vine-covered, and cool even in the noonday sun. [276 |
