Easton Walled Gardens, Lincs

Snowdrops at Easton Hall

Snowdrop Week at Easton Walled Gardens sounded a lovely and suitably middle-aged outing, so Dear Middle Aged Friend (DMAF) and I set out on a road trip into Lincolnshire.  Misguidedly,  in Sat-Nav I trusted and the jaunt did not start well with the bossy secretarial tones of sat-nav ordering me to take constant u-turns across the path of thundering juggernauts on the A1. 
Like a miracle, a sign appeared telling us Easton Walled Gardens was next left and yellow jacketed men directed us to a parking spot as the place was heaving. 
We were desperate for lunch and a sit-down and as many of the crowds seemed to be in a snowdrop talk (more later), we thought we’d be clever and get in for lunch immediately.
The queues snaked back into the garden from the too-tiny café and I suggested we went to the pub, but DMAF was made of stronger stuff and pointed out by the time we got to the pub, we’d be in and out of the Café.  The queue was all very British, people passing comments down the line about waiting times, nobody, but nobody, bagging a table (which had been my first instinct) and a stoical spirit of we’ll get there in the end.

Not much on the menu, but what was there was freshly prepared and all looked lovely.  Cold from queuing, we both decided to go for the tomato soup, which was hot and delicious with a beautiful sun-dried tomato roll on the side.  A bit of lemon cake afterwards made our mood so much better and we set forth in search of snowdrops.
And snowdrops there were, huge drifts of them prettily sloping down towards a stream and soon we had that glad to be alive feeling, strolling around the lovely grounds under big blue skies and walking under a spooky stretch of yew trees, which once would have led to the now demolished Easton Hall, pulled down in the 1950s like so many of the country's stately homes.  The house had been in the same family for 14 generations and there is a happy ending in that Ursula Cholmeley, a direct descendant of the original owner Sir Henry Cholmeley, is the person who has so beautifully restored the gardens.

Tool Tower!

We walked around the grounds, by ‘The Tool Tower’ giggling at the name with it’s Fifty Shades connotations and then had a look around the shops and decided that in for a penny, in for a pound, and checking it only lasted 10-15 minutes – which fits well with our attention span we went into the Coach House for a talk on snowdrops.
The talk was really interesting, the lady speaking to us a self-confessed galanthophile, (must remember that for the pub quiz) giving us a bit of history, a bit of anecdote and some practical snow-drop care advice.   If you've read Deborah Moggach's Tulip Fever, there's another book here waiting to be written as apparently a recently discovered snowdrop called Wendy’s Gold fetched £150 for a single bulb at auction.
Of course, snowdrops were on sale afterwards, so I purchased a Turkish Snowdrop which flowers in December and DMAF went for the traditional variety and on leaving the Hall, we placed them close together in the car boot hoping they’d morph into a snowdrop that would be worth £150  a bulb.

The Good: The grounds and the snowdrop talk.
The not so good: The queue for lunch.  Snowdrop Week must happen every year so surely the crowds could have been better catered for?  There were plenty of outbuildings that could have been used or perhaps just got an extra tea-urn and cakes outside for people who were after a quick snack rather than lunch.
Go again: Definitely, but if it was a specific week like the snowdrop week,  I'd go after lunch when it wasn’t so busy.  Sweetpea week (June 29th - 6th July) sounds great and the pictures of the grounds in summer look fab.