Proportion and restraint are two things to keep in mind when choosing gate, writes JANE POWERS.
SOMETHING THAT I hope we’ll being seeing less of in these straitened times is gold-embellished entrance gates. Far too many of them have sprung up in the past two decades, and almost always in the wrong setting.
There are exceptions, of course. For instance, if you live in some huge historic pile such as Powerscourt (which has the wonderfully ostentatious Bamberg gates leading to its walled garden), dickying up the portals with curlicues and gold plate is all part of the brushwork of the big and beautiful picture. These kinds of grandiose entrances (along with trappings such as classical statuary and splashing fountains) were the symbols that a ruling class used to convey their superiority over the rest of the population. They were meant to welcome in the “right” people, and intimidate the rest of us into calling at the back entrance.
Forbidding but elegant gates such as these are now pieces of our historical fabric, and although it’s a fabric that is uncomfortable to wear at times, it’s part of our culture. Which makes it all the more gobsmacking when you see a fabulously ornate, ginormous, gilded entrance to a rural bungalow or to a semi-detached house. As my late father would have said: “I wonder what they have in mind?” All of this is a rather long-winded and ungracious way of saying that gates and entrances should be in character with the building that they serve. Grand building: grand gates. Modest building: modest gates.
Modest may also be well-made and nicely designed, which means that those of us who don’t live in stately homes can still have handsome gates. (In some countries, gates are a rarity – which raises the question of why we are wedded to gates. But that’s another day’s work.) The degree of splendour is just one of the many factors to consider when choosing a gate. Another is proportion. The height of the gate in relation to the adjoining wall, fence or hedge is important. A tall gate partnered with a low wall usually looks all wrong: the logical section of the brain says “sure why would you go through that gate, when you could be hopping over the wall?” And while it’s unlikely that visitors would choose the wall instead of the gate as a means of ingress, such a gate-to-wall relationship can confer an air of showy futility on the gate. In most circumstances the gate looks best when it is at the same level or lower than the boundary it breaches. Gate posts may ascend higher, but great feats of loftiness should be avoided, unless one lives in a castle.
And speaking of gate posts: these are more harmonious if the material is compatible with the house. It doesn’t have to be the same, just a congenial match. If there is a local style, or local stone, then honour it. To be sure, we all crave recognition for our individuality, but it’s generally more public-spirited to exercise a bit of architectural restraint.
I don't wish to sound like a gate puritan (and in truth, our own entrance leaves something to be desired), but it's worth remembering two things. The first is that one's gate is part of the community landscape, and the second is that its style says a lot about the person living inside it. (As I said, I don't want to sound like a gate puritan, but it seems I just can't help it.) Let's change the subject slightly, and talk about planting around entrances. One of the nicest things that you can do for your visitors is to grow scented plants at the gate, or by your front door. Shrubs and small trees such as mock orange ( Philadelphus), lilac ( Syringa), daphne and roses are fragrantly welcoming. Even if you have a tiny garden, the annual night-scented stock can be crammed in somewhere. Sow the seeds very sparsely in small pots or trays, and when the plantlets are a couple of inches tall, shoehorn them into the soil. The small, cruciform, pinky-mauve flowers curl up into insignificances during the day, but at night time they unfurl and emit an intoxicating, almost edible aroma of coconut, sugar and cloves.
Pairs of shrubs on either side of an opening help to define it. Tall, slim evergreens, such as columnar juniper and cypress create a formal effect, while more rounded shapes – topiarised box spheres, for example – are less austere, and more friendly. Many old country cottages in Ireland still have neatly clipped, rotund shrubs placed hospitably on either side of the door.
It's possible to coax certain trees over an entry to make an informal arch, formed by the natural growth of the branches. You can use a pair, but it's more pleasing sometimes to employ just one – extending a limb in a protective embrace. Among those that may be shaped by the judicious pruning of a few branches are lime, sorbus and Persian ironwood ( Parrotia persica). The lovely great white cherry, Prunus'Tai Haku' may also be used to frame an approach, but pruning should be minimal, and carried out only in summertime to avoid the fungal disease, silver leaf.
Do remember that any archway – be it made of plants or something more solid – restricts access. So, unless you have an alternative entrance, make sure that double beds, sofas, machinery and other awkward lumps will fit through the space.
Arches are often more suited to being positioned inside the garden, where they can be clothed in swathes of roses and clematis, or other climbers and twiners. Many of the pre-formed arches for sale are too skimpy to accommodate the growth of the plants, as well as a human being. Therefore, if you’re growing roses, or other bulky climbers, allow for the shoots impinging at least 40 centimetres on either side, and at the top. The romantic amble through the arch is a disaster if you are stooped over, snagged by thorns or drenched by wet foliage.
Permanent climbers require sturdy supports, and even runner beans and sweet peas can put a lot of strain on a structure (add the weight of rainwater and the power of the wind to the equation).
If you have a large garden, dividing it into “rooms” allows you to create different moods, with each space having its own “doorway”. This can be as simple as a gap in the hedge, sharply clipped to give plenty of definition, or it might be a complete flight of fantasy. All that pomp and circumstance and odd-ball stuff that was frowned upon earlier in this column can be happily accommodated in the privacy of one’s own little domain. For instance, while dark colours, and white or neutral tones are the most agreeable choice for gates that border the public thoroughfare, in the back garden anything goes. Use paint to match or complement the colour of the planting, or go mad with embellishments. If you have a good eye and are lucky, it will look creative and stimulating. If not, no-one will see it but you.