Jane Powers is enchanted by the mysterious aura of Corke Lodge in Co Wicklow
Atmosphere is one of the most important things in a garden. At least, for me it is. It is an elusive quality: hard to define, and even harder to manufacture. It is fickle as to where it decides to settle, preferring sometimes to linger in the most unlovely locations: among the cobwebby aspidistras in a tumbledown aluminium glasshouse, or in the long grass in a neglected plot. It is no respecter of wealth or station; you can throw money at a garden - as has been done with certain historic restorations - and nothing will persuade atmosphere to come and roll its invisible mist over the place.
Sometimes it is a distillation, I suppose, of the environs and their history, the garden-maker's character, and the way the light behaves. Sometimes it is none of these, but a dozen other intangibles. The only thing that is sure about atmosphere is that when it's there, it hits you fair and square, like the rush of cool, damp air when you step off the plane in Ireland after a trip abroad.
It was the light that got me, when I pushed open the gate at Corke Lodge, just outside Bray, in Co Wicklow. It was green, so green that the garden could have been under water. The slightly tousled box-hedging, the unfurling ferns, the stands of bamboo, all had the strange luminescent look of sea vegetation. Even the brown and grey tree trunks and stone follies were suffused with a verdant glow. And the jade-eyed, half-tabby cat, who appeared from nowhere when I arrived - to swim alongside me for the next few hours - had a green cast in the shadows under his white chin.
The grassy light prevails most in the western portion of the garden, where the sun is filtered through a woodland canopy formed by evergreen oaks, beech, yew, cypress, and a cork oak - a great behemoth with low-slung, deeply corrugated limbs. It was planted nearly two centuries ago, by the then-owners of the property, the Magan family. The tree may have been chosen because its name is a pun on the name of the townland, Corke Little. But the irony is that "Corke" comes from the Irish for marsh, and the cork oak (Quercus suber) is a native of southern Europe and north Africa, and is more used to the Mediterranean garigue than an Irish swamp.
The oak's current owner - or perhaps "guardian" would be more appropriate for the person minding such a venerable tree-being - is Alfred Cochrane, architect and furniture designer. It is, he says, the largest cork oak in Ireland. Its personality is large too, and its benign and rumpled presence dominates the two acres at the back of the pretty Regency villa.
The garden is just minutes from the urban sprawl of Bray and Shankill, and the busy motorway. But when you close the little wooden door in the ivy-clad wall, you are in a miniature rural fantasy. Small songbirds flit about, wood pigeons clap their wings and take off noisily, while the rusty call of a pheasant sounds from somewhere offstage.
The place is permeated with a most satisfying feeling of mournfulness, which exudes from several mock ruins - beautiful bits of masonry rescued from Glendalough House in Annamoe. The Victorian faux-Tudor wing had fallen into disrepair, and was demolished in 1978. But its front doorway, porte cochère and other stonework skeletons hang on in this secret space, rising bleakly from the shrubs and trees.
The garden is a wonderful piece of theatre, where the self-important, sombre stonework is complemented by bold foliage: ivy, bamboo, laurel, phormium, and ferns in many varieties. The crevassed bark of the cork oak prompts you to notice other curious tree-trunks: a duo of shaggy paperbark maple (Acer griseum), a tiny grove or two of chalky-stemmed birch, and the smooth and chilly - yes! feel it and see - cinnamon-barked myrtle (Luma apiculata).
A small double avenue (or, rather, a path) of cordylines strolls away from the house, up the garden, and directs you across the lawn into a "Mediterranean" garden. There you will find more ruinated stone fragments, spiky agaves and yuccas, a Beschorneria with its proudly phallic flower stem, and a compelling view of a field of wheat.
It's a good vista, but the one I like best requires you to march back into the green-infused woodlandy garden to the west. When you have reached the elegant remains of the stone doorcase you must turn around and sweep your eyes to the north east (slightly to the left, that is). Ignore the house (nice as it is) and rest your gaze on the tripled-arched granite "ruin", just visible through the trees. Heave a deep sigh and imagine you are the sole human figure in a Piranesi etching of crumbling ancient Roman architecture (or whatever melancholy image takes your fancy).
That is the kind of slightly silly - but entirely pleasurable activity - that is the result of being hit by atmosphere. jpowers@irish-times.ie
The garden at Corke Lodge, Woodbrook, Bray, Co Wicklow, is open for two special events next month. On Saturday, June 25th, the Irish Georgian Society will hold its summer party, with wine and canapés, from 5pm-7pm (members €30, non-members €35). Booking essential. Contact IGS, 74 Merrion Square, Dublin 2, 01-6767053.
On Sunday, June 26th, the garden is open from noon to 4pm, in aid of the Harare Street Children's Fund. Admission: family with children under 10, €12; adult €7.50; OAP and student €5. The garden is also open to groups by appointment. Websites: www.corkelodge.com and www.dublingardens.com