Sissinghurst: A Day in the Life

Oh, Sissinghurst, you have woven your magic through me and I am a changed person. 

For three weeks I had the privilege and honor to be a guest gardener at this iconic National Trust property. It is five acres of a garden, in a ruin, in a farm, which is how head gardener Troy Scott Smith describes it. Much has been written about it, I myself shared a visit in 2024. You can revisit those posts here and here for a dive into its history. 

I wish to share with you the first of what will be several posts about my nearly month-long stay, a bit of its history and vision for the future, the ins and outs of being a guest gardener, and my wanderings in the Kent Weald. Today, as an introduction, I give you a day in the life, living on site in an Elizabethan ruin, working hard and getting to know the amazing gardening team.

Walking out the front door of my cottage, this was my view going to work every day. It was surreal, looking at the long house known as the West Range, a building dating back to 1490, with the sun rising behind. But I'm ahead of myself.

First, waking up in a 1930's cottage called Oast Cottage on site (originally built for farm workers), this was the view out of my bedroom window. The Kent Weald surrounds this place, weald meaning a woodland area but is now primarily agricultural land.

Downstairs for breakfast, the light in the kitchen was particularly lovely this day. I had a roommate the first and second weeks (more on them later), the first, Thurle, was an artist in residence. I was very lucky in the roommate department, both were incredible people with whom I got along so well. Thurle had gathered inspirational materials from the surrounding land, I often woke to a new arrangement or work of art every day. Here, a bouquet of dried fern fronds and seed heads adorns the window sill.

Post-breakfast, this was literally my commute across the field that fronts West Range. Straight ahead, the low roof, is the gardener's mess hall and offices.

Every morning at 7:30 the day's team meets for "daily prayers" as they call it. We gather in a circle and go over the tasks for the day. It is truly a collaborative process - no one gardener owns any area or task, rather it's a group effort across all tasks and garden rooms. I was paired with a different gardener or team every day and gratefully got to know these amazing people a little bit. There are eight gardeners, two nursery managers, one head gardener (Troy) and one assistant head gardener (Saffron).

The gardener's mess hall, all tidied up at the end of the work week. I had an assigned seat here and stayed out of the way at tea time, also known as second breakfast. It's a serious business, tea time. From 10:00 - 10:30 we gather here, someone makes a pot of tea and/or coffee, cups of which are distributed to each person. Milk? Yes, please, it's delivered by the milk person regularly. Farm fresh. It's a tight fit in here, so there's a system in place that I appreciate. We have second breakfast, literally, then back to work. There are three shifts - one from 7:30 to 10:00, then 10:30 - 1:00, break for lunch, then back at 2:00 - 4:30. That segments the day nicely and I can honestly say the tea and lunch breaks were highly anticipated by me.

A peek inside the gardener's shed. Each gardener has a color-coded tape pattern on his or her tools for identification. The burlap hanging from the ceiling are sheets which we use to pile debris on to carry off to the compost pile. It is an easy and maneuverable way to dodge visitors who quickly fill the gardens as the 11:00 hour bells toll. I had my own volunteer tool shed with many of these same tools.

This day was thatching or "scarification" as they call it. Here (and I can't believe I'm saying this), Pete, senior gardener, trusted me with the scarifier. On the lower courtyard lawn. Of Sissinghurst. I've never used one of these in my life, nor do I profess to have lawn at all. Still, it's a good skill to learn so I was eager to give it a go. I went over this once, completely back and forth and thought "Oh, that's it...that wasn't too bad" even though it was extremely dusty and dry.

Oh, how wrong I was. The next step was a bunch of us raking up the debris into rows where we used those burlap sheets to carry it off to the compost area. That took many, many trips by each of us.

The next step was that I had to go over the whole lawn again with the scarifier, then I had to go over it again with a lawn mower which sucked up the second pass' debris, which I had to empty out once every row and pile it onto fresh sheets that the team carried off for me bit by bit. That's three complete passes over this courtyard lawn, that's 25,395 steps on my pedometer if you were curious. That's 10 miles of walking on this lawn. This was by far the hardest day of my three weeks (physically for the dust breathing, heat, sun), but I'm glad I had the opportunity and learned something new. This is a view of the whole lawn as seen from atop the tower.

The next day the lawn received a layer of a mix of compost to grass seeds. This was like an ant train - Ian and Terry (Terry on the right, a fantastic volunteer), filled wheel barrows mixed with seed for us, and each of us  - maybe eight in total - wheeled them through the rose garden and onto the lower courtyard where Pete took it from there. We went back and forth, back and forth, dropping off empty barrows and picking up loaded ones.

Here Pete, senior gardener, had us dump our wheel barrow into this roller with the compost mix. He then rolled it out across the lawn. When complete, the whole lawn was roped off so no one is able to walk on it for a time. 

Was this a one time thing? Oh no, it happens annually. In fact many British visitors were very keen to know we were doing this as it signaled that they should be doing it for their own lawns, in other words a regular practice in the U.K. 

We did this same thing in parts of the orchard, but with a different seed mix that included wildflower seeds. The plan for the upper courtyard lawn, by the way, is to plant a wildflower seed mix to improve biodiversity at the garden. I look forward to seeing this, it's a marvelous idea. For now, this lower courtyard will remain rich, green grass (once the autumn rains return).

At the end of the day, I looked forward to a little relaxing in the cottage, then a bite to eat (I cooked almost all of my meals at the cottage) and most evenings a walk or exploring Sissinghurst at night. One evening Thurle suggested we walk into Sissinghurst village to check out the shop and local pub The Milk House. We wandered through glorious apple orchards (Kent is full of them, amazing cider and white wine, too!), visiting sheep along the way. This cheeky bunch managed to pop open the gate behind me as we entered their field. About eight got away, running as fast as possible to the apple orchard to feast to their heart's content. Little did they know Thurle and I were determined to not face a farmer's wrath so we herded them back through after much running and blocking potential getaway routes. A comical scene, I felt like we were in a Benny Hill skit. I think the sheep have done this before and know the drill - they were all gathered at the gate ready to pounce on unsuspecting walkers as we were. We won this battle, they were not pleased, looking at us scornfully. Can't say I blame them, though, as the apples here are delicious.

Through the orchards, fields, cows and sheep we made it to the village shop where they have a surprising amount of local and what I would call gourmet products, as well as local produce.

The cheeses! I'm currently on a cheese detox diet now that I'm back home. But oh...my.

Pretty sunset over the orchards.

Just enough daylight to pop into the garden at night (yes, we were allowed) and enjoy it all to ourselves.

Back to the little cottage, home.

And off to bed. Every night I was exhausted, partially from jet lag but also from a good solid day's work. It felt great and honestly I am used to working that hard, but the excitement and novelty of it all added a layer of energy that had me pooped at the end of the day.

With no television and very spotty internet, I had a radio in the kitchen playing classical music, a good book, a journal and my phone, it was a nearly unplugged experience. That was enough to keep me completely happy. The rhythm of it all felt right, not rushed, with time in the evenings to enjoy a local pub, a walk in the area or a sunset exploration of the gardens. The walks around the region were so beautiful, it made me weepy. I didn't need to drive anywhere (two very kind gardeners took me to the grocery stores two different occasions), I didn't want to go anywhere else. It was, in a word, magical. It sounds cliche, but honestly it's true. The Sissinghurst world really exists and suits me just fine. Everyone is so respectful and kind and generous with their knowledge and quick with a good hardy laugh. It was refreshing to be in a place of peace.

There is so much more to share with you all - individual gardens such as Delos, the Rose Garden, Herb Garden, the Nuttery as well as some walks in the area. Stay tuned, I hope you'll indulge me for a few weeks of Sissinghurst posts. I'll get back to posts about our little garden here, too, for sure, and how it has fared this past summer as well as plant recommendations for our area.

That's a wrap for this week at Chickadee Gardens. As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting, we do love hearing from you!