334 Rue René Vielle, Eugénie-les-Bains, 40320
At Les Prés d’Eugénie, the garden is everywhere. It has plainly made itself at home.
The story begins in the courtyard, beneath tall palms, among Andalusian fountains and hydrangeas which, come summer, show little interest in restraint.
The Bar moves outdoors. Drinks are taken while the afternoon, relieved of all urgency, stretches out at its leisure.
An avenue of lime trees leads to a monumental trellis fountain, with something of an eighteenth-century country house about it. The rose garden prefers a less direct approach. Old climbing roses cover its arches, creating a passage that is scented, shaded and just theatrical enough.This is where playing truant begins: at the precise moment one chooses the longer way round. A patch of shade, a fragrance, an unexpected vista — any will do.
At this garden Palace in Eugénie-les-Bains, in the Landes, there are quite enough temptations to make getting lost a pleasure.
Water runs through the estate. Bright, lively, occasionally mischievous. It travels from the papyrus pond to the water-lily pool by way of a cheerful little rill, made for those who suspect that a walk may be improved by continuing barefoot.
In spring, irises stitch colour along the banks. Summer brings wide, fleeting blooms, promptly claimed by dragonflies. Then come the colchicums and daffodils, as the light softens and the garden settles into another rhythm.
The great meadow keeps its own calendar. The Stuart Squares emerge in spring: a chequerboard of grasses, rearranged daily by the wind, which remains until the final days of autumn. Then it vanishes. Without undue ceremony. It will be back.
With every season, the composition shifts. One border wakes, another fades; a view concealed in summer quietly returns. Garden lovers know that the most engaging places never reveal themselves in a single visit. This one provides particularly good reasons to come again.
Some gardens are there to be admired. Eugénie’s are also meant to be tasted.
The Curé’s Garden supplies the kitchens with flowers, herbs and aromatics. Beside it, the Flying Orchard is home to fifteen beehives. Their honey appears at breakfast — a short journey, and a highly commendable one.
The meadow leads towards the orchard of the Ferme Thermale, then on to the Garden Baths. Here, one slips into the warm water of a deep wooden tub. Clouds pass overhead. Leaves tremble. The breeze joins in. To ask for more would seem rather ungracious.
Across the river, La Ferme aux Grives cultivates a different sort of freedom. Country paths, espaliered fruit trees, edible flowers and plants. A kitchen garden that feeds the imagination as readily as the table.
The estate reveals itself in scenes. A rose. A bee. Running water. A herb picked that morning. Everything moves between garden, house, baths and kitchens.Guests come to Les Prés d’Eugénie for a few days. The gardens alone would justify the journey to south-west France.
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