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Byline: Hamish Bowles
In the palmery of Marrakech, outside that bewitching city's pink adobe walls, crimson bougainvillea clamber to the very tips of an ancient cypress allee at the sequestered entrance to a country house, as date-palm fronds reach to one another across the lane, shading the view. In the traditional Arabic vernacular, the estate's wonders prove to be a slow and mysterious reveal, materializing as they do from an arid desert palm grove. But perhaps its greatest mystery is this: Two years ago, this Edenic retreat (Ain Kassimou) was dedicated to paddocks and polo ponies, its gardens nondescript or jungle-dense.
It is the lady of the house ...