KEY POINTS:
Iran's vast deserts, glistening saltpans and mountains rent by geological upheavals have long made its human inhabitants thirst for water.
But not just water to drink - for hundreds of years Iranians have been creating walled gardens and filling these with pools, channels, fountains and cascades. They were
building little pieces of paradise on Earth (fittingly, the word Paradis is Persian for garden).
First-time visitors to Iran, often carrying with them images of a soul-less and strict creed (and lifestyle) are often astounded by the sensual expression of the Persian soul that can be found in Iranian gardens.
And water is one of the key elements of these classical Persian designs. Water has more than visual appeal - it awakens all the senses - and draws out the poet that lies only just under the surface of many Iranians.
Far to the east of Iran in Kerman province and near the town of Mahan lies the Bagh-e Shahzad, or Prince's Garden. Being a 19th century garden it is not classically Persian (having been influenced by European designs of the time) but nevertheless it epitomises the Iranian love of water.
Bagh-e Shahzad does, however, have many of the essential elements of a Persian garden - it is enclosed, providing a private haven from curious eyes and to shut out the more hostile environment beyond its walls; its layout is symmetrical, fruit and flowers (especially fragrant blooms) are important in the planting scheme and, most importantlyof all, it gurgles and dances with water.
The garden is entered through an arcaded two-storey gateway decorated with floral frescoes. The central archway frames the stunning view up a wide series of cascades and pools to the main pavilion.
When I was there recently there were dozens of Iranian families picnicking in the shade of the trees just outside the lower pavilion.
Iranians take their picnics very seriously - they bring carpets, the hubble-bubble pipe, a small brazier on which to cook kebabs and enough thermoses to keep everyone suitably awash with tea for the day.
While much of the world seems convinced that Iranians are feverishly planning anti-western rallies or constructing nuclear bombs in their basements, it's my observation they're more likely to be organising picnics.
After being offered tea, bread and a bag full of quinces we left the picnickers to walk up beside the cascade. The first autumn leaves to fall from the avenue of plane trees flanking the cascade were spinning in slow aquatic waltzes in the pools before slipping over the waterfalls.
Once at the top we sat on the pavilion's veranda overlooking the garden, lulled by the flowing water, and ate kebabs on a mountain of rice, the top layer of which had been turned a deep gold with the addition of strands of Iranian saffron.
We washed it down with pomegranate-flavoured non-alcoholic beer - a beverage unlikely to make it big at home but entirely appropriate in this setting.
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Pictured above: The gardens at Bagh-e Shahzad in Kerman province. Photo / Jill Worrall
