Claverton Cloches

From a quiet garden moment during lockdown to handcrafting timeless objects for Balmoral Castle, Claverton Cloches was born out of a longing for slowness, seasonality, and soul. In this conversation, its founder Beth Gregg shares how the English countryside continues to shape her work, why imperfection can be a gift, and what it means to create pieces that grow more beautiful with age.

CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF?

I live in the historic, Georgian city of Bath, and work just outside the city in an old barn in the bucolic English countryside. I grew up with a father who gardens prolifically (and still does), so gardens have always been a part of my life. I studied plant biochemistry at university but ended up on a corporate path for a while.

“Claverton Cloches was born from my desire to return to something slower, more tactile — a life rooted in seasons, soil, and creativity.”

My whole life I’ve been transfixed by the romance of the English garden, and have always been drawn to the intersection of beauty and utility — so I suppose the cloches are a reflection of those two elements: practical objects, but with soul, designed with the English garden in mind.

Do you remember where you were when the idea for Claverton CLOCHES first began?

Yes! it was a quiet moment during lockdown, standing in my own garden. I’d been looking for a cloche to protect my chilli plants, and I remember thinking …

“why is it so hard to find something that works well but is also beautiful?”

Something that adds to the garden, rather than just serving it. That question sat with me. Later, I came across a single antique cloche at a market — slightly dusty, full of character — and it was so evocative of the English country gardens that I so adored. That was the moment it really took root. It was like being handed a seed from the past, and I felt compelled to bring it into the present.

You’ve built this brand with your partner, Janus, and taught yourselves so much along the way. What’s something you learned the hard way, and something that came surprisingly easy?

One of the hardest lessons was learning when to stop. When you work with your hands, especially on something you care deeply about, it’s easy to chase perfection. But I’ve come to see that perfection can be a moving target, and sometimes, the most beautiful results come when you step back and let a piece breathe. Listening to the materials, to the process, and especially to our customers — has become a quiet discipline. Their feedback has shaped so much of what we do.

What came more naturally was the rhythm of the work. The long, quiet days in the workshop.

“The joy of crafting something that brings delight.”

I’ve always loved the feeling of hosting, of creating small moments of beauty for others — and in many ways, Claverton is an extension of that. Creating something that feels meaningful for someone else has never felt like work.

As Claverton grew, how did you decide what to keep doing by hand?

I always ask: Does the hand leave something behind that the machine can’t? There’s a kind of energy in handmade work - small variations and imperfections, the slight imprint of a thumb in putty. I keep those parts, even if they’re slower, because they carry feeling. There’s also something sacred in the act of making — and I didn’t want to lose that intimacy just for efficiency. Our team is still tiny too, and we work together closely so it feels like we all interact with every order at different stages of the journey, from creation to customer experience.

What do you think makes a design feel finished?

When it no longer asks anything of you. When it feels inevitable — like it always existed, and you’ve just uncovered it. There’s a certain stillness to it. That doesn’t mean it’s perfect; it just means it feels true. The biggest compliment is when people ask if our products are antiques — this is when we know we’re struck the right design.

You work with materials that age, weather, and live outdoors. Does time shape the way you think about beauty?

Absolutely. Time is the final collaborator. I love that our cloches gather moss and lichen. That transformation isn’t damage — it’s deepening. I think we’ve grown too accustomed to beauty being pristine, untouched.

“I find so much more meaning in wear, in weather, in use.”

It’s beauty that lives, and tells the story of the human lives that have interacted with it along the way.

You also restore antique cloches. What draws you to that kind of work, and how is it different from designing something new?

“There’s a reverence to restoration.”

It requires a different kind of sensitivity to creating afresh — learning how something was made, honouring the original maker’s intent. There’s nearly often a story with antique cloches too — perhaps they were an heirloom, something that reminds someone of a green–fingered grandparent, or sometimes they’re found at the back of a stable by a wilting country house that perhaps itself is now being restored. Designing something new has more freedom, but restoration feels almost like caretaking. I love both, but restoration reminds me we’re part of a continuum and I feel particularly compelled to breathe new life into items as my own small way of battling the dreadful throwaway culture.

What guides you when you’re deciding what to design next?

The more time I spend in the world of gardens, the more inspired I become to create — whether that’s reviving antique forms or solving a practical challenge with beauty and integrity. Often it starts with a question: Why doesn’t this exist yet? or How did people used to solve this problem? Other times, it’s an object I see in a historic garden, or an old sketch I find in a book. I try not to chase novelty. I’m more interested in reviving something that still feels useful, with an enduring design.

What does slowness mean to you—in the way people might live with your pieces?

Slowness means noticing. Taking the time to water a garden with one of our hosepipes, a nurturing act that can feel meditative, or seeing a heavy frost covering the glass like icing sugar, knowing your seedlings are safe inside.

“It’s about being present with the things you use.”

And, allowing your artifacts to become companions in the rhythm of the seasons. I hope our pieces invite that kind of attentiveness — not urgency, but appreciation.

How has your environment shaped the way you work? Has the landscape around your studio become part of the process?

Oh, completely! Our workshop sits on the side of a spectacular valley, lambs bleat in the spring, the mist hangs in the winter, and hot air balloons sail by in the summer mornings. I’m aware it sounds almost unbelievable, and I pinch myself sometimes. It’s all so very English. Rolling hills peppered with ancient trees, meadows and centuries–old churches with their lichen–covered stone walls. There are pretty cottages with their whimsical, untamed gardens, and grand country houses with their neat topiary and clever planting schemes. It’s all incredibly inspirational, and one simply has to spend the smallest amount of time outdoors in this countryside to feel inspired. Wandering often leads to ideas. Even the colour palette of our work — dark greens, soft greens, honey, rust — is pulled straight from the hills, hedgerows and buildings.

“The landscape isn’t just a backdrop—it’s the teacher.”

Are there any unexpected reactions or conversations with customers that have stayed with you?

We’re fortunate to receive many kind and thoughtful messages from our customers — especially when a cloche is given as a gift. I’ve had letters from people who say their cloche is now the favourite part of their garden, or that it reminds them of a loved one, perhaps they evoke a memory of their grandfather using them in the garden when they were a child. That emotional connection — that something we made can hold that kind of meaning — is always incredibly moving and rewarding. We also delivered cloches to Balmoral Castle in Scotland last year, a royal residence with remarkable kitchen gardens. That felt like an honour and definitely a highlight.

What do you hope someone feels the first time they open the box and see a Claverton piece in person?

“A quiet intake of breath.”

That feeling of holding something made with care, something that’s meant to last. I hope it feels both grounding and a little bit magical — like discovering an heirloom that’s somehow already yours.

now that the business is more established, are there any new or exciting projects on the horizon?

There’s so much I’d love to explore. The more time I spend in the world of gardens, the more inspired I become to create — whether that’s reviving antique forms or solving a practical challenge with beauty and integrity. We have several new designs in development, and I’m always listening to our customers — they’re wonderfully insightful, and often share what’s missing from their gardens. My hope is that Claverton Cloches continues to grow organically, staying true to our values, while offering more ways to bring elegance and joy into outdoor spaces.

We’re also working on expanding the Garden Chronicles — inviting more voices into the conversation, and exploring the garden as not just a place, but a way of seeing.

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exquisite cast–iron Victorian garden cloches and beautiful garden hoses

© All Photos By Claverton Cloches