Ireland : Two Favorite Gardens from My First Scouting Trip

Last October, I finally set out to explore the gardens of Ireland.

October is not, strictly speaking, considered prime garden-visiting season—but it was what the calendar allowed. When I contacted garden owners to arrange site visits, I found myself adding, more than once, “I have a lot of imagination.”

As it turns out, imagination was hardly required.

“The gardens of Ireland” is a broad—and ambitious—term. I knew immediately that doing it justice would take more than one trip. For this first foray, I decided to focus on gardens in and around Dublin, with a particular emphasis on County Wicklow.

My husband, who often accompanies me on scouting trips, came along armed for the worst: rain gear, warm layers, even rubber boots. In the end, they stayed mostly unused. The weather gods were clearly smiling on us. Instead of rain, we were treated to an Indian summer—mild temperatures, soft light, and even the occasional burst of sunshine. It rained only on the last two nights, and always after dark.

We spent two days exploring Dublin’s gardens before heading about an hour south to County Wicklow, often referred to—quite rightly—as the Garden of Ireland.

What I hadn’t fully appreciated before this trip was the extent of Ireland’s microclimates.

The warming influence of the Gulf Stream, combined with the sheltering effect of mountains and hills, creates remarkably mild growing conditions—particularly around Dublin and in Wicklow. Frost is rare, and when it does occur, it tends to be brief (though, of course, climate change makes all predictions feel provisional these days).

I was also unprepared for just how beautiful the gardens would still be in mid-October. After an unusually mild September, foliage was glowing, textures were rich, and there were even early autumn blooms still holding their own. Far from feeling like the end of the season, the gardens felt generous and alive.

As always, I sought out a variety of garden styles: historic gardens open to the public, private gardens tucked discreetly away, legacy gardens shaped over generations, and more contemporary creations. We also visited the gardens of renowned horticulturists June Blake and her brother Jimi Blake—highlights in their own right.

What struck me most, though, was the sheer diversity of plants that thrive in Ireland. Thanks to the mild climate, species you might expect to see in the southern hemisphere flourish here. The gardeners we met were deeply knowledgeable, confident in working with an astonishingly broad plant palette, and—without exception—warm, welcoming, and generous with their time. I left knowing one thing for certain: I will be back.

Created over the past thirty years by a couple of passionate horticulturists—he an artist, she the plant whisperer—Ardán lies just twenty minutes from central Dublin, in the coastal village of Howth. When they first arrived, the sloping site was little more than a 

field overgrown with brush. They fell in love with the land nonetheless, positioning their house to allow for the largest possible garden.

The name Ardán, meaning “height” or “rising ground” in Irish, perfectly captures the spirit of the place. This is a garden built on a challenging site, and it embraces that challenge fully.

Inside the house, a large bay window dissolves the boundary between indoors and out. Sitting in the living room, you have the distinct impression that the garden is part of the house—that it flows right in.

Outside, the garden unfolds as a series of rooms, each with its own mood and character. The overall feeling is one of profusion and exuberance—of color, texture, and movement. Transitions are seamless, and as a visitor you feel gently submerged in nature. It’s an immersive experience, one that invites lingering.

 If Ardán is immersive, Corke Lodge is theatrical.

The word that kept coming to mind as I walked through it was stage set. In early summer, flowering roses play against a lush green backdrop. In October, the garden is almost entirely green—but what a green it is. Structured, layered, and deeply atmospheric.

The garden is shaded by venerable trees, most notably a magnificent cork oak (Quercus suber) that predates the garden itself. Contrary to what you might assume, the name Corke Lodge doesn’t come from the tree.

The area has been known as Corke since medieval times, derived from the Celtic word crocach, meaning swamp.

The current owner enjoys pointing out the coincidence—and the pun—especially since the architect of the house planted the cork oak in 1815, along with other specimen oaks arranged to resemble olive trees.