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Truly, this is a garden you could wile away an entire day in, and still not see it all.
Luv a duck
o question, that John McGowan is not only the Guide’s #1 roving photographer, but also one of the finest, 
friendliest people you could hope to meet in Greystones.
o question, that John McGowan is not only the Guide’s #1 roving photographer, but also one of the finest, 
friendliest people you could hope to meet in Greystones.And on our visits to his Crowe Abbey home, we had long noticed that the place boasted one stunning front garden.
Only, John being John, the man was too shy to let us head up there and actually capture all that beauty.
Only, John being John, the man was too shy to let us head up there and actually capture all that beauty.In the end, we worked out a compromise. John showed us around the garden, and his equally lovely if marginally-less shy wife, Kathryn, would do all the talking.
There must be something in the water up in Crowe Abbey, because pretty much all the houses on this Kindlestown Lower Road slip-road are smothered in flowers, and sweet-smelling bushes, proud trees, creepers, and the like.
That said, the McGowan garden has always stood out for us.
What we didn’t realise until today though was the sheer size of it. Like the man himself, the McGowan garden has hidden depths. About an acre of hidden depths.
What we didn’t realise until today though was the sheer size of it. Like the man himself, the McGowan garden has hidden depths. About an acre of hidden depths.Talk about secret gardens. Having taken some shots out front, and just about to leave, John led myself and Max through the side gate, and on to the back garden. And on. And on.
Past the little donkey alcove. Past the big, sprawling kids playground, complete with swings and a perfectly-crafted sandbox. We went up beyond the sheds, the home away from home where the McGowan’s three dogs sat patiently at the glass door, keen to be let roam free once again. And then we went even further back, by more sheds, the greenhouse, a caravan, the old plough that John’s father, Stephen, had used to maintain all the Crowe Abbey garden vegetable patches, and on even further, to grandson Lucas’ favourite fairy hideaway corner, before, finally, we came to a fenced-in garden-within-a-garden.
Past the little donkey alcove. Past the big, sprawling kids playground, complete with swings and a perfectly-crafted sandbox. We went up beyond the sheds, the home away from home where the McGowan’s three dogs sat patiently at the glass door, keen to be let roam free once again. And then we went even further back, by more sheds, the greenhouse, a caravan, the old plough that John’s father, Stephen, had used to maintain all the Crowe Abbey garden vegetable patches, and on even further, to grandson Lucas’ favourite fairy hideaway corner, before, finally, we came to a fenced-in garden-within-a-garden.
We headed through this wooden gate of this Tolkien compound, under an archway of flowers, and down a windy path. And there he was. Charlie. The duck.
The lucky, lucky duck.
Truly, this is a garden you could wile away an entire day in, and still not see it all. 
And it’s just around the corner from my 4-foot-square sun trap.
Ah, it’s good to know I’ve finally found somewhere I can retire to. As long as I have the strength to climb over the McGowan’s back fence…
You can check out more Flower Power gardens right here
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You couldn’t have better neighbours