In The Lavender Fields Of Surrey
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I cannot imagine a more relaxing way to enjoy a sunny English summer afternoon than a walk through a field of lavender. Observe the subtle tones of blue, extending like a mist to the horizon and rippling like the surface of the sea as the wind passes over. Inhale the pungent fragrance carried on the breeze. Delight in the orange butterflies dancing over the plants. Spot the pheasants scuttling away and – if you are as lucky as I was – encounter a red fox stalking the game birds through the forest of lavender. What an astonishing colour contrast his glossy russet pelt made as he disappeared into the haze of blue and green plants.
Lavender has been grown on the Surrey Downs for centuries and sold in summer upon the streets of the capital by itinerant traders. The aromatic properties and medicinal applications of lavender have always been appreciated, with each year’s new crop signalling the arrival of summer in London.
The lavender growing tradition in Surrey is kept alive by Mayfield Lavender in Banstead where visitors may stroll through fields of different varieties and then enjoy lavender ice cream or a cream tea with a lavender scone afterwards, before returning home laden with lavender pillows, soap, honey and oil.
Let me confess, I had given up on lavender – it had become the smell most redolent of sanitary cleaning products. But now I have learnt to distinguish between the different varieties and found a preference for a delicately-fragranced English lavender by the name of Folgate, I have rediscovered it again. My entire house is scented with it and the soporific qualities are evident. At the end of that sunny afternoon, when I returned from my excursion to the lavender fields of Surrey, I sat down in my armchair and did not awake again until supper time.
‘Six bunches a penny, sweet lavender!’ is the cry that invites in the street the purchasers of this cheap and pleasant perfume. A considerable quantity of the shrub is sold to the middling-classes of the inhabitants, who are fond of placing lavender among their linen – the scent of which conquers that of the soap used in washing. – William Craig Marshall’s Itinerant Traders, 1804
‘Delight in the orange butterflies dancing over the plants…’
Thomas Rowlandson’s Characteristic Series of the Lower Orders, 1820
‘Six Bunches a-Penny, Sweet Lavender – Six Bunches a-Penny, Sweet Blooming Lavender’ from Luke Clennell’s London Melodies, 1812
‘Spot the pheasants scuttling away…’
From Aunt Busy Bee’s New London Cries
Card issued with Grenadier Cigarettes in 1902
WWI veteran selling lavender bags by Julius Mendes Price, 1919
Yardley issued Old English Lavender talcum powder tins from 1913 incorporating Francis Wheatley’s flower seller of 1792
Archive images courtesy Bishopsgate Institute
Unlike you, I have always loved the scent of lavender, and I have travelled a long way to enjoy it. It has long been associated with Provence, where the relentless, burning sun, suits it well. It is a plant that doesn’t mind arid conditions, including the drying wind coming down from Mont Ventoux.
If you travel further south and east, you can also visit Grasse, home to the French perfume industry. There you can learn how the essential oil is extracted from the plant, and used to make all of the scented products that you can imagine.
Nearer to home, we have Cotswold Lavender, who also open their fields in summertime, and manufacture their own products. These include culinary lavender – guaranteed safe for human consumption. If you have never tried lavender shortbread, please do, it really is marvellous.
My maternal grandmother, who I only know from my late mother’s memories of her, always wore lavender water. She only wore clothes that were black, white, grey, or lavender purple.
Lavender always reminds me of my beloved France, but also of my family. For these reasons, it is one of my favourite flowers.
Big, blowsy, leggy stalks of lavender are growing, right at this moment, in the unruly patch right next to my kitchen door. Although all of my deck plantings and outdoor furnishings/props have been set up and look pristine, there is always a discouraging “chaos” area near the kitchen door. Every year I run out of gardening fervor before that area is tackled. So, a towering red rose flourishes there — but, sadly, it is surrounded by other-less-attractive wildness. Sigh. With temps in the high 90s these days, I have a convenient excuse to ride out the chaos.
Your gorgeous mannered beds of lavender (complete with butterfly!) remind me of the real beauty of lavender plants, lovingly and expertly tended — and how beautifully abundant it all looks. I once gave an art workshop in Ojai California during the lavender season, and was limp with appreciation for those gorgeous fields. Lavender blue, dilly dilly.
Beautiful
Yes, lavender is beautiful. For me it is one of life’s greatest pleasures.