Hawarden Estate in the snow
WORDS & PHOTOS BY RHYS JONES
Monday 5th January 2026
As snow enveloped Hawarden Estate, Met Office notifications and warnings flashed up amongst the standard Sunday night scrolling. Whilst most of the collective internet seemed to have an aversion to the prospect of returning to work, I was altogether more optimistic.
The breadth of my role (Head of Design and Creative Development) means I get to spend time at the studio designing, but also documenting as much of our corner of North Wales splendour as possible.
Today my ever-competitive genes wanted to compete with our sister estate, Glen Dye. The team in Scotland had seen record breaking levels of snow, a troupe of happy guests were stranded (in the best place possible), and the whole community pulled together in ways big and small.
In comparison, Hawarden was altogether more snow-kissed than tempestuous.
Heading across frost-bitten parkland, in front of the Castle, every step crunched with superb satisfaction as I made my way to the lake: completely frozen, still, and shimmering in the winter sun.
The resident gaggle of geese were Out of Office (down south for winter), and the usual far cries of local pheasants were absent, making it the stillest and quietest I’ve ever experienced it.
Alone on that path, this scene felt far removed from days at Summer Camp, where we welcome our guests to the private nature reserve under the late July sun with dogs diving, kids kayaking and swimmers cooling off amongst the lily pads. Today the sauna in The Walled Garden feels a little too far away for some hot/cold therapy.
The lake is possibly my favourite place on the estate. It was home to the first project I worked on with Charlie, which involved renovating this very run-down Victorian Boathouse across a heatwave in late August. Bliss.
From there we worked together more and more and the rest is history, so it’s always nice to find an excuse to spend time down here. Especially on the first Monday back after Christmas.
I set a small fire and snaked the perimeter of the frozen water (careful not to put a foot wrong and break the icy shell) in search of the most Wes Anderson-esque shot in perfect symmetry and stillness, the only movement was the crackling of the fire embers.
All-in-all a very good start to the New Year before the reality of my pending inbox hits.
