![]() They disappear into the sweet alyssum, geranium, stasis, rose campion, that section of garden close to the graves of the house-dogs, True Winnie Darling and Dear Haig.Īs if on cue, a hawk-a red-tail I would guess-glides quickly across my view, appearing from behind Hawk Tower and disappearing behind Tor House.Įven without the people that normally animate Tor House-the visitors from as nearby as down the street in Carmel to as far away as Brunswick, Maine, Holmestrand, Norway and Beijing, China the tour docents revealing the wonders of Tor House to these visitors the flower, music, archival, bookstore, and special occasion docents-even without this flow of people, Tor House and Hawk Tower are filled with life. ![]() As I write this, looking out over those gardens from the second story of the East Wing, a covey of quail darts along the brick patio, adults and chicks so numerous and moving so quickly that I can’t count them. The Tor House gardens have been spectacular this year. ![]()
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