Little Sparta

I've wanted to visit Little Sparta--Ian Hamilton Finlay's extraordinary garden--for some time. Yesterday I finally managed to, courtesy of the delightfully obscure McEwan's bus service 100. A fair walk was involved, but the day was crisp and bright and the scenery pretty, so this was not a problem.

It's hard to do the garden justice here, and I only had an hour or so, but it is brilliant. I enjoy gardens, but not always the production of self-styled garden designers. It's rare to find an out-and-out artist expressing themselves in this way. Why? I say the world needs more bird tables in the shape of aircraft carriers.

The garden is the more remarkable if you approach it, as I did, from the moorland behind. It appears as a small cluster of trees on a very open hillside at nearly 300m. Once inside, it seems huge, and you're only conscious of the lack of time to see everything.

Naturally, I was the youngest person there, except possibly for the very nice young lady who collected the money. But then I'm used to this.

It's refreshing to see a visitor attraction where the car drivers are forced out of their vehicles and have to walk up an unmade road for half a mile or so. I can see that changing.