Above Ground on the London Underground: Day 9 Christmas at Kew Gardens ... Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus
I’ve been off track from my imaginary walking tour of London, where I’m currently meant to be following the Picadilly line but I’m unwilling to leave Richmond with its fading green grass behind. Wasn’t it just summer? And now December’s come! One more stop before I leave; Kew Gardens with its’ famous glass Palm House, the Great Pagoda, the Ruined Arch folly and the flowers. All the flowers.
Image via TheOldMapMan.com
I’m here at the wrong season for flowers, of course. The earth has shifted since Virginia Woolf first wrote about Kew Gardens almost 100 years ago, her evocation of nature on a hot July day, flower stalks tipped with red, blue or yellow petals, stirring in the summer breeze, while three different sets of visitors straggled by an oval flower bed, lost in their own worlds of secrets and dreams.
In Virginia Woolf’s story, a young man and young woman stand on the edge of the flower bed, both holding the handle of her parasol, pressing the point of it into the soft earth. On the precipice of a future together perhaps, the parasol in the earth a phallic symbol of their half-buried desired? In practical terms they ponder the price of tea. He’ll pay with a two shilling coin. How much is a two shilling coin worth I wonder, and how does that compare to the £5 ‘tea’ is likely to cost today at the Pavilion or the Orangery. My mother would know.
If it were July, would I pass by the same spot and recognize that blur of blooms, bright in the summer sun? Would I be able to identify the flowers—foxgloves maybe?—if I were here on a sweltering summer day—does it ever truly swelter in London?—instead of this mildly chilly afternoon in December? What’s the temperature? Low fifties. Not a snow cloud in the air. I’m from Los Angeles, low fifties is winter enough for me.
In the winter? In the winter the garden was left to itself, dormant, sleeping while the ground hardened, the first snowfall like sprinkles of powered sugar on a batch of brownies, within days the snow turning the rock garden finally into a deceptive looking snowbank of frosted white. In the winter she ordered tulips to plant under the front window, cut back the roses that bordered the driveway. December days drew my mother back inside to her books, Patti Page on the hi-fi, and sit down dinners complete with homemade desserts every single day.
The Lucy Loveheart Collection at Kew.org
Image credit: express.co.uk
Kew, Richmond, Surrey TW9 3AB
+44 20 8332 5655
Kew Gardens short story by Virginia Woolf
via the University of Pennsylvania
Counting the Steps
Day 1-8: 80,000 steps / 35 miles (approx)
Day 9: Richmond Park to Kew Gardens 4,500 steps / 1.8 miles
Wandering around Kew! At least 10,000 steps / 4.25 miles
Total Imaginary Miles to Date 94,500 steps / 41 miles
Discover more British themed posts at Joy’s