PETERSHAM NURSERIES //

A month or so ago I was perusing Cyberspace when I stumbled upon this. And I was stopped in my metaphorical tracks. Heavenly Georgian house you say? With glorious Orangery-esque greenhouses? Lots of them? And traditional walled English gardens? Sorry, was that flowers, furniture and pretty little knick knacks too? Super sexy wellies with laces, you say?! And coffee? With… cake? Carrot cake? Such a place exists? Oh my…

Fast-forward to Tuesday just gone. “And from here Rose*, it’s 100% pure gorgeousness…” utters The Father as we enter the paradise of South East England that is Petersham and its surroundings; an area for which my love has no bounds. With the inevitable tour and accompanying commentary of the houses we’ve looked at, almost bought, did buy and should have bought over (a guaranteed part of any tripette with The Father- precisely one half of the Property Passionate Parents), we pull up at Petersham Nurseries where an obligatory coffee-sampling ensues.

The Teahouse is a small but perfectly formed and beautifully styled barn. I have a soft spot for the turquoise dresser and feel the urge to take it home immediately. With drinks downed, The Father and I get our mooch firmly on. And what a mooch this is.

The nursery itself is awash with beautiful blooms and stunning stems in every colour. French-style slatted chairs in muted hues sit causally under perfectly mismatched tables, sheltered from the English elements (today being heavy showers, sunny spells- the usual) by many a whimsical Wisteria-covered canopy. Statues are scattered far and wide and traditional carts house many a potted plant.

The greenhouses are sublime; chandeliers hang from the ceilings, paint-chipped shutters and mirrors lean against the walls and planters of flora and fauna complete the oases of opulence. Endless goodies lie within; the homes and accessories house, in particular, an interior lover’s dream.

The restaurant looks ravishing; the tables of freshly-cut flowers and classic candelabras evoking a feeling of shabby elegance- and subsequent weakening of my knees.

Heck, even the toilets are absolutely bloody beautiful.

After a few too many photos taken and a declaring of Petersham Nurseries as an absolute dreamland, we head for home.

Awe-inspired. Mind-blown. Heart-stirred.

*The Father always uses my middle name- to clear up any confusion.

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