The same view, five ways.
Most guests come back in a different season. This is why. Choose one and read it as a story rather than a grid.
Ten days when the whole estate turns white.
Blossom comes in a rush and goes just as fast. The air is thick with it, the bees arrive from three villages, and we hang lanterns down the rows for one evening.
Eighteen degrees while the plains are at forty.
The long green months. Fruit is thinned by hand, the kitchen garden runs at full tilt, and dinner moves outside for six weeks.
Cloud moves through the rooms if you leave the doors open.
The most underrated season here, and the cheapest. Rain on slate, mushrooms on the forest floor, the cider cellar at its most useful, and the best sleeping weather of the year.
Harvest. The light turns copper by four.
Six weeks of picking, sorting and pressing. Everything on the table came from within sight of it, and every guest who wants to leaves with a bottle dated the day they made it.
Snow to the doorstep, fires in every room.
The valley goes quiet for weeks at a time. Pruning by hand in the cold, the cellar at its best, and the clearest night skies of the year.
Seven short films, shot on the property
Tap any frame to play. Sound is off until you turn it on — the rooms are quieter than the video suggests.
