Faith and Flowers

From the moment you step from the woods and through the gothic door set in the high brick wall, you are aware that this is no ordinary garden.

 First you see a Heath Robinson-style contraption in which a bicycle in a water trough is connected to a power-generating wave machine. Then a sculpture depicting God handing the Earth to man. Soon you reach a chicane of barcode panels through which you are invited to weave as a penitent, shedding your guilt, greed and anger, and travel on until you stand at the foot of a towering back cross rooted in coal and blood-red flowers.

 Clearly, this is a garden built to a grand design. Not so much the grandness of amazing landscaping, planting or construction, although all are impressive. Rather, the grandness of a great purpose

 You don’t simply stroll around the Reflections garden, created by John and Rev Christine Polhill on 1.3 acres behind their bungalow on the edge of Cannock Chase in Staffordshire – you embark on a spiritual journey.

 Aware that many people’s most spiritual moments occur through contact with nature, the Polhills set out to create a garden in which such experience could lead to a deepening faith in the teachings of Jesus, and hence to the core of Christianity.

 To do so, they drew on the teachings of St Ignatius, and the Ignatian spiritual exercises designed to help Christians make life decisions more in line with God’s will. They have made those teachings flesh – or rather flower.

 And flower they do. “I have the ideas,” says Christine, “but I have no notion of how to put them into practice. It is John who works out how to do that.”  

 There are actually five distinct but interlocking gardens, each shielded by high hedges so that your winding way ahead is never clear to you.

 The first is called The loving Creator and, John admits: “I found this one very difficult to plant. I didn’t want it to be cuddly: creation is not cuddly, it’s a struggle and a fight.”

 His choice of spiky phormiums and a cordyline is witness to that. In his planting he has tried to encapsulate the energy, vigour and wildness of creation.

 The fight for life and survival is depicted through a sculpture called The Creative Energy. A pair of dark red latticed tubes, like giant brandy snaps, have been made from plastic bags and telephone wire woven into hexagons. Tiny human figures scramble over each other to reach the top. “The hexagons are the shape of a benzene ring of carbon atoms,” John explains, “part of the molecule of many organic substances, and a building block of creation.”

 And then, there in the bushes, is God - entrusting the earth to us. “Letting go isn’t easy – the Bleeding Hearts are planted here to represent that, and later Love Lies Bleeding will flower.”

 We move on to the second garden, The Loved and Forgiven Sinner, through that bar-code chicane and along the painful penitential path of pebbles, which turns through 180 degrees – representing a distinct change of ways - and brings us to a lush lawn and gazebo where we can rest and be restored.  

 John points out the significant plants along the way. “We have pansies for thoughtfulness, honesty, sage because you need wisdom for change, thyme because it takes time to change and grow, garlic for protection against evil, and soapwort because the leaves can be used for washing and cleansing.”

 And then there is a baptismal font, rescued from a redundant church.

 “I wasn’t a gardener at all before we took on this project, I learned as I went along, but I still don’t know the names of all the plants. They are here because of their colour, or other characteristics, and for their significance.”

 Creating these gardens was a life-changing experience for the Polhills. John was high up in the Logica computer firm, the flotation of which enabled him to retire early with the funds for this project. Christine had been a full-time mother, then became ordained and was responsible for rural parishes in Hertfordshire. As members of the Iona community – a dispersed community - they were looking for a worthwhile project, and searched far and wide.

 The diocese of Lichfield told them about this plot of land adjacent to Beaudesert, once the Marquis of Anglesey’s estate and now held in trust as a camp site for young people. A run-down bungalow was also for sale. That was seven years ago. Since then, the sandy acid soil has brought forth the garden; Christine has become chaplain to the camp site, and runs retreats. A double garage has been converted into a hermitage for visitors.

 Christine explains: “We are part of the Iona West Midlands community and follow a five-fold rule including daily prayer and Bible reading. We account for our time and spending to the community, and the garden, its creation and running the place as a retreat, is part of that account.”

 One key goal was to interweave environmental themes with each of the gardens. Manipulate a paddle in the wave machine and the bicycle’s light comes on, representing energy from renewable sources. In the second garden, the theme of pollution is represented by a rubbish-clogged stream that becomes clear blue. Later, consumer choice, human suffering and ensuring the renewal of natural resources are all drawn in.

 The third garden is called Discipleship, where the fruits from the discipline of discipleship are represented by plants that must be trained in order to be productive. There are sweet peas that must be coaxed up a hazel wigwam, and early and late raspberries that must be tended in very different ways if they are to fruit.

 Discipleship offers choice, so there are three exits from this garden. One leads to a wilderness, another to a quiet reflection garden where a wooden boat on a pond recalls the Sea of Galilee. The third path leads to the Passion Garden.

 To confront the cross in this setting makes its symbolism enormously powerful. “It was the first thing we put in,” said John. “My builder said ‘I’ve got a cross that some primary school children made, I’ll bring it over’. I expected it to be a little thing, infact it’s huge, and we had the house blessed and placed it here first.

 “It’s surrounded by coal from the south Staffordshire coalfield that ends 200m that way. There was pain here when the collieries and the heavy industry left.”

 A holly hedge with red berries encloses this garden, and a Cockspur thorn tree recalls the crown of thorns.

 Beyond are double doors bearing steel mirrors in which you see yourself, and what is behind you, darkly. Push through them, and you are in the empty tomb, through which we pass to reach the Resurrection Garden.

 Here, a Tree of Heaven – Alianthus altissima – reaches for the sky. The central figure is a statue of Christ, represented as a gardener because Mary Magdalene at first mistook him for one. This is also Mary’s garden. As Christine points out, there are Mary gardens that celebrate Our Lady but: “I’m very proud my Mary garden is dedicated to Mary Magdalene. “

 Later, over lunch of scrambled eggs from their chickens and salad from the kitchen garden, Christine says: “We think our garden is unique, and we’d be interested to hear if you have found anything similar.”

 I confess I have never seen anything remotely like it.