When One Constantia Garden Became Two — Then One

The original garden was meant to be the whole story. Designed by Carrie Latimer on a 1 515-square metre site in Constantia, it was a self-contained space: structured terraces, a lawn and a pool bordered by thoughtful planting. At its centre stood a romantic rose arch by architect Wynand Wilsenach, and a single Liquidambar tree that had been installed with a crane and no small amount of spectacle.

Then it all changed. Eighteen months in, the neighbouring property came up for sale. The owners purchased it, an additional 1 350 square metres of old-style planting, deep beds of fuchsias and a stately oak that seemed to have presided over the landscape for decades. Suddenly, the garden was only half of something larger.

What followed was less a redesign than a diplomatic merger. How could two very different garden personalities be combined — one considered and architectural, the other lush, slightly wild, full of fuchsias and memory — without flattening either?

It began with the wall between the two properties being removed. Screening shrubs once used for privacy were now redundant and the original rose arch had to be lifted out, ‘necessary if the new space was going to feel unified,’ says Carrie.

The house provided the key to the design; its soft grey façade and Georgian lines offered a visual and architectural language that could be extended. Granite retaining walls were replicated, and the driveway was resurfaced in granite cobbles to match the existing materials. The planting palette followed suit: muted, cool and tonal. Blues, whites, mauves, apricots and soft greens kept the composition calm, anchored in the house’s colour scheme. ‘The garden had to feel like it belonged to the house,’ Carrie explains. ‘Strong yellows or oranges would have pushed against that. It needed restraint.'

The granite terraces lead into the new garden, shaping a generous upper lawn that now connects to a pool house. The deck was also enlarged, edged with Leopard trees (Caesalpinia ferrea), chosen for their elegant habit and dappled shade. Carefully placed granite boulders soften the transition between hard and soft landscaping, and lighting was approached with care. ‘It’s tempting to light up every tree, but that tends to flatten the experience,’ says Carrie, ‘lighting just a few creates drama without shouting.’

At the lowest point of the site, Wilsenach designed a set of granite steps that lead to the forest walk — a shaded area beneath the established oak, where the planting becomes more immersive. Here, large camellias, azaleas, Plectranthus and a mass of fuchsias create a textural, subtropical understorey. These are layered with ferns and clipped hedging to structure the shade. 

In lighter areas of partial shade, Carrie planted Hemerocallis, Liriope muscari 'Evergreen Giant' and Hypoestes aristata ‘Purple Haze’ — tough, adaptive plants suited to the Cape’s variable light and moisture. Curving through the planting, a floating timber walkway bridges the forest garden with the terraces above. ‘Curved decks look effortless, but they’re deceptively complex,’ Carrie says, ‘there’s no room for error in how they’re built.’

The original rose arch sits further down the garden, within a new rose garden that connects the lower and upper levels. Climbing roses were retrained to grow over the arch, including the delicately scented Rosa ‘Iceberg’ and the romantic ‘Pierre de Ronsard’. ‘It’s come full circle,’ Carrie reflects. ‘The structure’s in a different place, but it’s still the heart of the garden.’

The result is a space that feels deliberate and not overdesigned. Two gardens, now one — layered, lived-in and thriving.

The Art of Holding Back

Garden designer Carrie Latimer shares her principles of garden-making as quiet choreography — restraint, rhythm and knowing when to let the plants lead.

Not Everything is Forever

Even the most considered feature — like a rose arch — may need to move. A garden is a living space, not a fixed set-piece.

Let the House Lead

Use the architecture and materials of the home as an anchor. Colour palette, structure and texture all begin there.

Don’t Oversell the Light

In a grove of trees, light only a few. Trying to highlight all can end in overstatement.

Cool Colours Calm a Space

In a garden with greys, stone and shadow, stick to white, mauve, blue and soft green. Avoid the noise of strong yellows or reds unless they have a reason to be there.

Trust your Trees

Shade is an asset, not an obstacle. Work with it. Camellias, azaleas, fuchsias, Plectranthus and Hypoestes all thrive in dappled light.

Curves are Harder than they Look

Loose lines should feel effortless, but they demand precision in design and execution. There’s an art to making a path look like it was always meant to be there.

Use Restraint as a Material

A light hand often leaves the strongest impression.

Credit

Text by Heidi Bertish

Images: Elsa Young

This article was originally published in the SA December/January 2026 Issue of House & Garden.