Cascading wisteria racemes
A friend called last night: "What are you doing?" I swallowed my focaccia. "Just finished eating," I said. "Why?"
"Let's go look at wisteria," she replied.
What does it say about me that, not only am I the type of person who'll drop everything to go to a sleepy village just to look at wisteria, but that my friends know that I'm that type of person?
It turned out to be a great idea. Denham is just inside the M25, yet you'd think you were in the deepest, tweeist heart of England, it's so lovely. Of course, a large part of that loveliness is due to the ancient wisteria vines that stretch across aged brick cottages, each wall competing for Best Wisteria Vine Ever.
We were drunk with the scent of wisteria before we ever got to the pub.
My friend, who'd earlier tried to convince me the wisteria in Denham was the best, was right. Or spot on, as they say...see for yourself:
WIsteria peeks over into the churchyard, where grave stones have been moved and lined up against the fence. (Health and Safety strikes again.)
The cottage on the end was once the home of the actor Sir John Mills.
It goes on and on and on...down one side of the street, and up the other.
This man is probably a judge from the Wisteria Society. Or maybe he just wants to go to the popular public house, The Swan.
This house is draped with wisteria...
On both sides.
