A Walk Through Fox Rosehill Gardens

The entry of Fox Rosehill Gardens flows so seamlessly from the Woodlane Campus of Falmouth University, you’d be forgiven for taking a turn down there to find an inconspicuous seminar room. The solid grey tarmac is firm underfoot, with the occasional patches of unsaturated playdoh mud, perpetually protected from the shade of the trees, destined to not feel dryness again until after the seasons of autumn, winter and spring slowly tick past, and given the rainfall of the last summer, perhaps not even then.

The greyness of the ground is merely underlining the infinite shades of green from the many plant varieties the garden cradles. Through the tunnel of branches, you come to the other end, where the garden meets reality. With no cover from the trees, the continuous rumble of cars interrupts the peace. Stepping out from under the shadows, the crisp, clear air that was piercing the skin is brushed away, and a light blanket of sunlight takes the edge off, as much as it can, on a late October afternoon. The minuscule flies that only exist in the sunlight appreciate the warm glow by dancing in it.

A shrunk-down post box bin, not as vibrant red as its taller sibling, is perched on the edge of the grass, begging for a refresh of paint. If a post box is the red of fresh blood, the bin is the colour of a dried-up scab and has a texture that matches. Despite, or perhaps because of, its ageing appearance, it is obvious against the beauty of the nature that unfolds behind it. However, if you were tasked to do a treasure hunt for litter around the garden, you would come back empty-handed, so perhaps the bin’s success is in its audaciousness.

*Written in October 2024