There’s something oddly romantic about driving down crumbling mountain roads in the middle of the week, chasing herbal dreams and old-world charm. Margaret Roberts Herbal Centre, perched in the hills just past Hartbeespoort, feels like the kind of offbeat outing that might score relationship brownie points and maybe, just maybe, reconnect you with the quieter, slower rhythms of nature.
Open only on Wednesdays and the first Saturday of each month, it has that secret-garden energy the kind of place that rewards a little effort. The views alone are worth the drive, rugged ridgelines, crisp highveld air, and terraced herb beds that roll out toward the horizon. Entrance is just R20 per car — fair enough. But beyond that? Things start to get a little… strange.
The Garden: A Bit of Then and Now
Ten years ago, the gardens here felt alive. Lush, layered, and infused with Margaret Roberts’ herbal philosophy. This time around, while still beautiful in parts, things felt more uneven. The soul of the place is still present, just not always tended.
The main Herbal Garden, though intact, felt a little tired. Like it’s been left to fend for itself. I couldn’t help but wish for better signage or something more educational to tie it all together. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll happily pick up a book, but for a herbal education centre that’s only open to the public one day a week, maybe have a guide. A lecture. Or at the very least, some informative signs about the plants.
Instead, the only signage I spotted was a barrage of “don’ts.” Don’t take a twig, don’t touch a seed, don’t steal a leaf or bark, don’t smoke, don’t take photos. I get it, boundaries are necessary, but it left a slightly sour taste. And to top it off: no picnics allowed, I understand that they want to capitalise on a captive audience, but if you’re going to forbid bringing your own food, at least offer a picnic basket or something to make it feel less sterile. I highly doubt most people want to loot the rosemary bush, but I am certain they would like to admire it.
That said, there are still places that hold their magic. The lavender walkway is genuinely lovely. A fragrant corridor that resets your head and slows you down. The chapel, nestled quietly in the garden’s embrace, remains one of the most beautiful and peaceful features of the property. Simple, sacred, and effortlessly photogenic.
There’s a noticeable pivot toward the whimsical now. Im not sure if that was always the case, but it was a lot more noticable on this visit. There was a bigger focus on the fairy gardens and a fairy house featuring fairies made by Sandy and Margaret Roberts. Regrettably no photographs allowed here, understandably so, as it’s a small and touching window into their time together. There’s also a miniature fairy village, which we found very cute, albeit covered in chicken wire. There is also a handful of curated Instagram moments(which was also a nice touch for the younger generation), but I couldn’t help missing the more practical magic. The food gardens. The healing plants. The hands-on stuff that used to make this place feel unique.
Then there’s the greenhouse building, or “plant house,” filled with ferns and botanical curiosities. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the garden. An indoor fountain, an elf statue, and what can only be described as an apocalyptic-level greenery takeover. I believe this was the first conservatory Margaret Roberts built for herself and others who suffer from asthma. It looked genuinely fascinating through the glass, and thought there is lots to learn for natural ways to purify our own smoked filled Joburb air in our homes. But it was locked on the day we visited. Just a sign, a locked gate, and a missed opportunity.
I was especially looking forward to the apothecary section. Something I assumed would be central to the experience, and an incredibly unique idea. But there was no trace of it. And the seed bank that’s supposedly opening this year, most of the staff had no idea what I was talking about, Maybe we were just unlucky, wrong day, wrong time, who knows? One kind lady eventually gave us some information, but regrettably at the end of our visit.
Before visiting, I did my usual bit of digging to see what we could expect. On the Margaret Roberts Website I saw mentions of labyrinths and a life-size Zen garden. We couldn’t find either. No signs to help navigate and, regrettably, no interest from staff either. It was all a little disappointing, but I guess I may have set my expectations too high. I’d like to come back when more of these features are active, but on this trip it just felt like it missed the mark a bit.
The Herbal Centre: More Soap Than Soup
Given Margaret Roberts’ legacy, books on cooking with herbs, growing them, understanding their healing. I expected shelves lined with botanical oils, seed kits, and old-school remedies. Dried herbs for sale. Cooking sachets. Bouquets garnis in little brown-paper packets. Perhaps even planter wall kits, something modern that forces you to connect with Nature.
Instead, most of the retail focus seems to have shifted toward soaps, fragrances, and bath products. Lovely stuff, sure. Nicely packaged and probably great for a gift. But if you’re there to explore the herbal side of things beyond skincare, it feels like a bit of a disconnect. More spa than garden, more room spray than flavours.
We always try find positives in our explor-ing, but in this case, if you’re coming with expectations of an immersive herbal education, dial those way down. Maybe things are more lively on the open weekend, with lectures and guides, but the place as a whole, felt a little flat. Which was an incredible shame there’s still so much potential here. It should be a living legacy. But the way it’s running now, it feels more like a passion project that’s winding down than one that’s thriving.
The Tea Garden: A Pricey Slice of Pie
Now, let’s talk about the tea garden. R185 per person gets you what they describe as a curated lunch, which was more of a boutique lunch box, a small chicken phyllo pie, a slice of bread, and a handful of salad. You can swap out the pie for something else, like a potato (I wish I was kidding), but the price tag stays the same. This wasn’t fine dining. It wasn’t even hearty Country fare. It was more canteen than countryside Café. The food overall was nice but for the price it was hard to swallow(pardon the pun). There is also the option to take specific items and they had a wide selection of cakes and bakes, and if life could come with do-overs I think I would have gone for that instead.
The setting doesn’t help much either. Signs tell you not to take your food onto the grass, so forget spreading out on a picnic blanket under the trees. You’re confined to the designated area inside, It reminded me more of my old boarding school lunches than a garden restaurant inspired by one of South Africa’s most iconic herbalists. Everything you want is outside, except you.
But credit where it’s due, the “make your own tea” corner tucked inside the food area was a genuine highlight. Finally, herbs took centre stage. You could collect your own fresh mix, and it felt like something Margaret Roberts herself might’ve enjoyed, I am not sure if they will steep it for you on site, ours was to take home and at R100 -odd, a bag it should last a few weeks. It was the one moment during the visit where the place actually lived up to its herbal promise.
And the lemongrass and pomegranate iced tea? Genuinely excellent. Fresh, punchy, and worth the R25. I would go back, purely to have another glass.
The Vibe: Romantic, Rustic, and Rough Around the Edges
This was a couples’ trip, intended to be, a little something special for someone who loves gardens, fairy trails, and doing something a little off the beaten path. And in that regard, it delivered. The scenery is charming enough to feel like a gentle escape from the city. There’s romance in the overgrown paths, magic in the quiet corners, and a sense of nostalgia woven through the space. and we fully embraced the photographic spaces.
But it’s also rough around the edges. The roads getting there are a mess, and once you arrive, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the place is slipping, not into ruin, but into something diluted. More retail and display, a facade if you will, of something it once was. Something it could very well be again, with some effort.
It’s peaceful. Quirky. And with the right expectations, still worth the visit. But if you’re coming with the weight of the Roberts legacy in mind (the books, the healing, the hands-on herbal wisdom), you might leave feeling like the heart of it all has been softly boxed up, and shelved behind the bath soaps.
Our Ratings
Value for Money: ★★☆☆☆
A stretch. R20 to enter is fine, but the overpriced tea garden waters this down.
Experience & Service: ★★★☆☆
No service to speak of. Gardens were peaceful, but signage and access were lacking.
Uniqueness & Atmosphere: ★★★☆☆
Fairy village and fern greenhouse give it a unique flavour, just not consistent.
Convenience & Accessibility: ★★☆☆☆
Roads are in rough shape. Limited opening days. Definitely not wheelchair friendly.
Would I Recommend It?
Only if you’re already in the area and craving something whimsical and lowkey.
Final Verdict: ★ – Worth a visit if you’re nearby – A Curious, Quiet Stop
Margaret Roberts Herbal Centre isn’t your average day out, That’s exactly what drew me here in the first place. It’s not polished or packed with activities, but it offers a certain stillness that’s hard to find elsewhere.
You won’t leave with armfuls of herbal remedies or a head full of botany facts, but you might just leave feeling a little slower, a little calmer, and a bit more tuned into the gentle rhythm of nature.
It’s not for everyone. It’s not fast, flashy, or particularly interactive.
But if you’re into quiet corners, long views, and soft magic, this might be your kind of place.