Glyndebourne gardens: 'They must, simply, look perfect'

The full, traditionally planted borders and the grounds in front of the largely Edwardian manor house have always been a focus of attention, together with jaw-dropping views of its farmland and the South Downs beyond. This is where most of the audience, resplendent in evening finery, take their smart picnics during the prolonged interval. New gardens in a more "modern" style were created around the new theatre and associated buildings, and have succeeded miraculously in masking their newness so that they manage not to look at ill at ease. Glyndebourne's gardens are renowned, and big "names" have been involved in their creation Mary Keen and Christopher Lloyd for example. But as John Hoyland neatly puts it, there comes a point in the life of most grand gardens when a kick up the backside is needed, and five years or so ago it was decided that the time had come.

Since 2004, the festival's organisation has been overseen by Gus Christie, grandson of John, who lives at Glyndebourne with his young family (in evidence on occasions when staff forget to move the goalposts from the picnic lawn). It is, therefore, Gus who signs off John's plans for the garden, and bit by bit, border by border, a beautiful, subtly coloured and renovated garden has emerged, with work, of course, still in progress.

The garden has a highly concentrated "season": from mid-May to the end of August, from early afternoon each day, it must simply look perfect. Every edge must be trimmed, every plant groomed, every donated bench must be in its expected position. Criticism is not unknown from among the many opera-goers, and from the members and other benefactors who between them fund everything, and who feel they deserve their money's worth.

ACT I: THE GARDEN

The scene was set for me by a glimpse of the "opera factory", the cavernous area backstage complete with strains of a distant soprano doing her stuff. This put the scale of the vast, hivelike operation that employs 600 people into perspective. Then, from the covered galleries where opera-goers congregate before performances, and where they can picnic on wet evenings, we looked down on the leafy, almost subtropical gardens below (packed with echiums and drama of all sorts, some of it tender: this was clearly the destination of the banana barrow).

Designed to be viewed from above as well as below, with steps that form a grand, theatrical entrance, this area now has grass replacing the previously gravelled, terraced "pools" between the banks of dramatic foliage, which enhances the still, coolness of it all.

From here we strolled along a wide, newly paved path flanked by big borders in front of the house. Here evergreens past their sell-by date have been either removed or ruthlessly pared back; box balls have been threaded informally through immaculate perennial planting. Subtly veiling the rural views are huge, dramatic stands of foxtail lilies, just ready for blast-off. We crossed the wide lawn, separated from sheep pasture by a ha-ha, to look at the re-created crescent border planted in an Edwardian style, with massed cool-coloured perennials and roses, the whole scene backed by a yew hedge separating it from an enclosed lawn ("No opera-goers allowed: croquet for the orchestra in the interval," I was told). There are special "places to be" everywhere in a garden that reeks of romance and drama with massed lavenders, roses (including the new 'Glyndebourne' rose, bred by Harkness), big-border perennials and a modish lacing-through of annual must-haves, such as Agrostemma githago 'Ocean Pearl' and Orlaya grandiflora.

ACT II: THE WILDERNESS

By clearing the site of an old boathouse, a favourite picnic spot has been created. It makes a stage from which John and I surveyed the first of three lakes (only one of these is clearly visible, a gentle wilderness engulfing the rest for now) and the meadows around it, studded here and there with late crimson tulips ('Kingsblood'), and the sheep and lambs on emerald pastures beyond. The whole thing was the epitome of peace and calm. John would like to pinch a bit more pasture from the sheep in order to widen the swaths of meadow-and-mown-walkways, since it is around here, he assured me, that the most secluded picnic areas are found.

BACKSTAGE

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Glyndebourne gardens: 'They must, simply, look perfect'