ROMEO the Connemara stallion gazes out through an opening in the barn, his chunky head framed by birches and boscage Joxer the Staffordshire terrier moves bow legged across the lawn a busy bantam scrapes the gravel and an anonymous cat slinks through the shrubs. All are part and parcel of Angela Binchy's country garden in Co Kildare, where animals are just as essential as plants.
The lawn flows into the fields beyond, impeded only by a post and rail fence. Outside the fence, half a dozen graceful horses move about. "I feel that a garden should fit into its surroundings and aesthetically I would prefer to see a thorn hedge there," says Angela Binchy. "But because we are a stud farm, we like to see our horses."
And to express his approval for this arrangement, from time to time one of them kicks up his heels and thunders about, showing what a fine chap he is. I call them my mobile sculptures, my beautiful living sculptures.
Every garden should have a bit of sculpture and, of course, every garden should also have its folly. Angela's folly an ancient, ruined, round tower, the remnants of a monastery at Old Kilcullen sits on a hilltop, a couple of miles away. "That's my bit of `borrowed landscape' I designed the garden so that it would be its focal point."
Which is just as well, because, this being a farm, there is the inescapable, elephantine bulk of a big, grey barn, rising to one side of the garden. But the resourceful Angela, instead of seeing this as an eyesore, has used it as a giant peg on which to hang the branches of her rambling and climbing roses. And so the shell pink Albertine scrambles up the corrugated sides, closely followed by Pink Perpetue and the signal red Dublin Bay. Honeysuckles weave their way through the roses, the whole lot creating a strongly fragrant and utterly cheeky wrap for the sombre, grey building.
The barn flanks one side of the garden opposite, a mixed border is a fairly relaxed affair. Foxgloves, hostas, stachys, red hot pokers and ornamental grasses are backed by the repeating colours of golden sambucus and deep red cotinus. Even the wild bramble has its place here its young foliage is allowed to unfurl into pretty, grey, crinkled leaves but, before it can turn into a thorny bully, it is whipped out by a wise secateurs.
At one end of the garden, a deep grassy bowl is sheltered by birches and a secluded bench offers a resting place for contemplating the view. In springtime, a double gorse flowers profusely, echoed time and time again by the wild gorse on the distant hill.
"I'm interested in taking the formality out of gardens. I suppose I'm trying to recreate what makes Ireland `Ireland' and to take that thing that makes Ireland so beautiful," explains Angela. "There is a very relaxed feel about the countryside and a softness. I think this is what we should be trying to do in our gardens."