I’ve not travelled much in the USA but have read accounts of the summer gardens of the rich and famous in some of the areas with extreme climates: Apparently it’s common to ‘set-dress’ your summer garden with fully grown peak-conditions plants brought in with no expense spared, and ripped out by your gardener or local hurricane at the end of the season.

Zooming through that oddly empty bit of the eastern Borders from a friends wedding, we came across one of the most bizarre gardens I’ve ever seen in the UK. Adam’s photos – take in haste for fear of guard dog attack – don’t really do it justice, but hopefully you can spot the barren, bleak moorland backdrop to this Oz of bedding plants and cloud-pruned topiary dwarfed by mature Scots pines.

I’d like to think this must have been the hacienda of a Scottish footballer, whose wife got a yearning for striped lawns to party on having seen one to many of those Hollywood wedding scenes with the rose arbours, Owen Wilson and a live band. It was utterly tasteless, a mash-up of every historic and national garden style of the last 400 years, but also opulent, unique and joyful.

Also, one has to admire this garden’s expertise – t’s not easy – as all gardeners know -to grow anything in the dry shade of evergreen trees, and a lawn this lush is an achievement. Granted the whole garden was probably on a round-the-clock feed of Miracle-Gro fertlizer – which is kind of cheating – but the great thing is that someone’s taken a lot of care to create this monster. I salute them.

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