Sheringham Park

Yesterday we went for a long walk in Sheringham Park. It was sold to the National Trust by the Upcher family a couple of decades ago, and has twenty hectares of rhododendrons alone, amongst its vast area. Consequently, when you get up on one of the lookout towers, you seem to be surrounded by thousands of rhododendron plants. When we were there, however, the rhododendrons had already finished their bloom time, and only the bushy shrubs remained. One familiar friend remained: we were greeted along the path by a fragrantissima, a late-flowering member of the family. We recognised it because it’s one of the shrubs we have in our garden at home.
We went up two of the viewing towers, one much higher than the other. We could look out over the dark blue sea, the coast with fields and a combine harvester bringing in the wheat, two campervans heading along a ribbon of a road towards a windmill and the village of Weybourne, and the woods on either side.
Wild blackberry bushes grew everywhere (in NZ they’re now regarded as a noxious weed, which is stupid) and though there weren’t any berries available yet, there were butterflies flitting around on them, one large Monarch and a number of pale brown ones of great beauty.
After a long time heading gradually downhill we came across the stately home named Sheringham Hall. This is still lived in, though how many people must live there to keep it filled is beyond my knowledge.