Happy hour is a magical time in most places but when faced with 14 hectares of natural pristine beauty it's taken to a whole other level.

The world heritage gardens of Hobart are like secret lands within a fantasy novel, each with their own story. The wind blows differently in sections of this secluded space. We discover the kept track of the Japanese Gardens first, and slowly work through the conservatory, bleak Anatartic Garden and working food Garden. Autumnal foilage lingers off the trees, a clear reminder that the seasons are not as defined as they once were. Like most good things concerned with nature, the warm hues of twiglight bring with them a colour with which to frame each life, each trunk and each grassy knoll.

We find solace in the fluidity and the choreography of the grounds, each working seamlessly together to bring the earth as one.

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The world heritage gardens of Hobart are like secret lands within a fantasy novel, each with their own story. The wind blows differently in sections of this secluded space. We discover the kept track of the Japanese Gardens first, and slowly work through the conservatory, bleak Anatartic Garden and working food Garden. Autumnal foilage lingers […]

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