Milberry Green Meadows is perched high on the North Downs, with far-reaching views. Our neighbours just along the road at Botley Hill take the crown for being the highest point in the Surrey Hills Area of outstanding natural beauty, but we are only a few metres below.
Winter
The landscape can be bleak in winter. While it may be raining in the valley, the rain turns to sleet and then to snow as you ascend the hill towards us. The wind might be a mere stiff breeze lower down, but up where we are it will be “blowing a hooley” as my Scottish and Irish family would say. Hence, we don’t operate our bell tents in the winter, taking them down and carefully packing them away in the autumn. Our shepherd’s huts remain a haven of cosy comfort, where the crackling warmth of a wood-burning stove dances with the gentle patter of rain on the roof.
The view is awe-inspiring year-round, despite the weather. The horizon is crowned by a majestic expanse of sky. Wisps of silver clouds drift lazily across a backdrop of soft dove grey, casting fleeting shadows upon the fields where sheep graze. Above, the occasional patch of charcoal holds the promise of yet more rain. It’s different every day, sometimes a startling azure blue, sometimes a dark purple bruise before a storm.
Beneath this canvas, to the southeast, we look over an undulating landscape unfolding like a Constable painting come to life. In the distance, 15th-century Beddlestead Farm (or House as it is now) sits among fields, their gentle slopes dotted with clusters of ancient woodlands. It’s humbling to think that our predecessors in Milberry Cottage, built in 1863, have shared this same view over the decades, connecting us through the threads of history and the enduring beauty of the land.
To the northwest, the skeletal trees allow a less obstructed view of London’s lights, twinkling in the distance. You can well imagine Sir Thomas Kelly, a local boy turned mayor of London in Victorian times, walking from there to visit his parents as folklore would have it.
But enough of winter, as spring is finally here.
Awakening
It’s hard to put your finger on it – that moment when you sense the fizz of renewal in the garden, smell something different in the air, feel the warmth of the sun’s weak rays growing stronger on your face. It’s not the odd balmy day in March that can trick the daffodils into flowering early, only to be capped with snow the following week. Nor the passing of the spring equinox, where the days finally become longer than the nights.
But somehow little things add up until you see it everywhere: sleepy bees stumbling drunkenly about, still half dormant; blackthorn’s delicate blossom emerging on the more exposed branches; the birds singing their hearts out as the mornings get brighter.
Yes, spring is finally here.
Spring on the glampsite
I wander around the glampsite, checking to see what has survived the harshness of winter. The deer have wreaked havoc with the folly of birch and rowan trees we planted in November. Hungry, and attracted by the remnants of the straw bale maze, which we used as mulch, they have trampled the saplings. Some will survive and we will plant more in the gaps. Most of the 300+ native species we put in are thriving; the rabbits have been kept at bay by the tree guards. I look for signs of growth, hoping they will put on a foot or two at least this spring and summer.
One of our treasures is 358 metres of almost continuous, native, deciduous species-rich hedgerow borders. In a priority area, Countryside Stewardship measures for the brown hairstreak butterfly, and we have isolated pockets of suitable habitat for this species. Recognising the importance of creating wildlife corridors, the tree planting had the ambitious aim of joining up gaps in the existing hedgerow. The native species mix was deliberately rich in blackthorn, preferred for the brown hairstreak to lay its eggs, but we will have to wait until later in the year to see if the new hedgerow has done its job.
The pheasants grow brazen, attracted by the birdseed my husband, Matthew, leaves outside his workshop. Now that hunting season is over, the males strut about the site, boldly scolding their harem of hens. Matthew started feeding a friendly robin last winter, enjoying his company. Now he has installed several bird feeders and loves to watch them while he works, cutting up wood to make a new outdoor kitchen and toilets for our glamping guests. The pheasants hover underneath, waiting for the smaller birds to spill some food.
The site supports a diverse range of bird species, with red kites and buzzards making regular appearances, particularly when hunting for rabbits. Kestrels have appeared over the winter, their characteristic hovering in sharp contrast to the buoyant glide of the kites or the silent swoop of a barn owl.
Last year, swifts found a home in the outbuildings, including a nesting pair in the glampsite’s games room. We hope the swifts will return in a few weeks, making the long trek back from Africa. To encourage these remarkable migratory birds, we installed extra swift boxes in our first year here. Matthew made another over this winter, but a pair of tits have taken advantage of the vacancy and moved in. It’s an unexpected bonus, and he enjoys their colourful plumage and cheerful song.
Glamping season is coming!
We thought we would have so much time this winter to plan for our second season, but it has gone in a flash. Suddenly we are immersed in taking bookings for the coming summer, counting down the days until we will pull the tents out of storage and put them back up again to create our vibrant bell tent village.
We are so excited to welcome bell tent visitors back to the site, especially the children. This year we hope to partner with a local forest school to run sessions onsite for our younger guests and we’re also running a star-gazing weekend. We offer a valuable resource in making the natural world accessible, especially for urban families who can hop on a train out of London and be on our site in less than an hour.
Every child deserves the opportunity to connect with nature, to feel the grass beneath their feet and to experience the sheer joy of being a part of something bigger than themselves. Welcoming these children to our site is a commitment to providing them with more than a weekend away – it’s a commitment to fostering a love for the environment, kindling a spark of wonder and sowing the seeds of a lifelong connection to the natural world.
Like the swifts, we hope they will find their way back here. And when they do, we’ll be waiting.
