THE FIRST THING that I notice when visiting Philip Hollwey's urban garden in south Co Dublin is that the end of it is way off in the yonder, somewhere beyond a dark green pergola that in itself is a good distance away. I'm surprised, therefore, to learn that the entire plot measures only 24m by 5.5m (that's 78ft by 18ft, for those who - like me - are metrically challenged). Actually, it's a generous size for a town garden, by today's standards (pause here, to ponder upon the space-pinching tendencies of some developers during the boom), but it seems wider and longer than it is because of the clever division of the area.
Hollwey, who job-shares as a teacher and also works as a garden designer, has broken the space up along its length, so that the eye is continually (and pleasantly) interrupted in a leisurely journey to the far reaches. He has resisted the temptation - so often succumbed to by urban gardeners - to connect the tool shed at the end with a path as straight as a railway track, so that the eye rushes along it like an express train heading for the terminus.
Instead, the shed is nicely concealed behind a screen of yew (and need concern us no further here). And, because Hollwey decided to forgo a lawn - and opted instead to anchor the space with grey slate paving - there is no need for a path, so there is no single visual thread drawing the viewer relentlessly along. This makes the garden seem more spacious and less restricting - and therefore much more relaxed. The lack of lawn also cuts maintenance to "less than an hour a week, and twice a year I take a run at it for a day".
Although it is such a calm and welcoming space, there are no gentle curves in the garden layout. The plot is segmented into rectangles: two different seating areas, several borders, a raised bed that is just the right height for sitting on - "45cm, so that it meets the back of your knee" - and a pond with a simple water spout made from a steel joist. The gushing water, as Hollwey is the first to admit, is a little on the loud side, but optional - he can always turn the pump off.
But back to those rectangles: Hollwey doesn't mix curves and straight lines in his designs. He believes in the simplicity that is offered by using one or the other, but not both. In his own garden, the unbending lines are softened by voluminous planting: huge piles of quilt-leaved hostas, mounds of elegantly elaborated ferns, sheaves of grass, and other good-looking plants. The predominant colour is green, and for a very good reason.
"Bigger gardens have endless green," he explains, "but in smaller gardens you need to bring the green and lushness in to give it calm. Too much colour will give it restlessness." An effective way of adding colour accents, he says, is to plant annuals or tender perennials in pots that can be moved around and "changed twice a year, for a few euro". He points at a red geranium erupting from a chimney pot placed in front of a gathering of luxuriant foliage, and says: "I know it's a cliche, but it's a lovely happy, smiley look!"
Hollwey also recommends limiting the kinds of materials used in the hard landscaping. "It's exactly the same as furnishing any room. You limit things to bring a calmness and steadiness into the picture." In a small garden, therefore, he suggests using "paving, edging and pebbles: that's it. Nothing more. Make sure you use the same kind of paving throughout, to keep unity in it." And make the boundaries a dull colour, so that "they don't draw attention to themselves. You want them to disappear gently."
Accordingly, he has painted his ordinary fencing panels a deep green, so that they do, indeed, melt away. The colour (spruce green) is an oil-based preservative, so it's a once-off job (two coats). In time, the fencing will recede even further, as it becomes clothed in plants: the garden is only two years old, so it is still maturing. The pergola at the end of the garden is as simple as the fencing. Made from two-by-four timber and painted green, it was "knocked up in a couple of hours on site. It gives some height - I didn't want to be seeing the windows of the other houses." The rose 'Bantry Bay' is travelling up it slowly and will soon cover it with candy-pink blooms.
The pergola leads the eye up, as does a nicely pruned juneberry (Amelanchier lamarckii), which was already in the garden. "People are afraid of trees," he laments, "but you need height." Other suitable candidates for small spaces that he favours are Japanese maples, and some of the Sorbus genus (S. vilmorinii and S. cashmeriana) and the crabapples (Malus). "Crabapples are fantastic in small gardens. You get flowers, you get berries, and autumn leaves, and good shapes."
Philip Hollwey's urban space is discreet, but terribly appealing: "I don't go for too much bling," he says. He loves the title of the famous book on garden design by the American, Thomas Church: Gardens are for People.
Small garden golden rules
"That is critical. People need relaxation. That is what our outdoor space is for."
- Break up the space so you don't give the garden away in one glance
- Keep the shapes simple, use either straight lines or curves; don't mix them
- Limit the kinds of materials in the hard landscaping
- Let green be the principal colour in the planting palette
- Add colour by using bright annuals and patio plants in containers
- Paint boundaries in dull colours that recede, rather than jump out
- Include a well-chosen small tree to add year- round interest and height