It was a well-kept secret. My son and partner moved to an apartment in a barn conversion at the weekend. They had shown us photographs of the property but not the estate’s grounds where it is situated. Taking a carload of their belongings to Penryn, my curiosity heightened. Mr Word Loft, who had been there with the removal van the previous day kept his lips pressed together and grinned as I peered around the surfboard balanced between us to probe for more information.

Turning off of the main road, the countryside’s fronds are vibrant wearing their spring clothes. The Sat-Nav guided us, but I spotted a sign to Enys Gardens and Mansion House. “We’re nearly there,” I exclaimed, and stared ahead at a field of tan coloured cows with suckling calves who glanced over nonchalantly as we stopped to take photographs and then wheeled by. There was still no sight of the new home as we continued down a driveway of dreams, where rows of bluebells glisten and white-flowered shrubs sit companionably beside the gravelled driveway.

Partway down, the car park was busy, and an arty placard rested on a bank advertising lemonade and crepes as it was an open day. We didn’t stop and carried on to the development of residences in renovated historical rustic buildings. We were impressed, but more importantly, our son and partner are delighted to be there.

“We’ll show you ‘the best part’ later,” my son said. “We can have lunch first. There’s a restaurant I think you’ll like in Mylor. It’s only a short drive away.” It was already quite late, and we were famished, so off we went, but my mind was still wondering about ‘the best part’.

On returning, it was certainly worth our patience. There’s a lake, a secret garden, and blooms to be proud of, but nothing prepared me for the breathtaking scenery to follow as we walked off our lunchtime feast. I’ve never seen so many bluebells. The Enys Garden meadows and glades are misted with rows of tanzanite-laden stems united in blue and purple swathes under the trees. It’s understandable why a bluebell festival is held on the grounds at the beginning of May. Britain is home to a high percentage of the world’s bluebells and I felt as if I was looking at them all as the evening sun slanted through the woodland like fairy dust illuminating the setting. The flowers scent is magical and captivating. And the entire experience, unforgettable.

Until next time,
Sue. X