Greg Murphy leads Old Farm’s evolution, blending legacy, design, and long-term landscape stewardship in Litchfield County.
When Judy and Patrick Murphy founded Old Farm in 1988, they built something thoughtful and significant: a landscape business rooted in hard work, attention to detail, and a respect for the land that outlasts any single season. Decades later, their son Greg carries that foundation forward, not by replicating it, but by evolving it.
“It’s grounding and challenging at the same time,” he says of inheriting a legacy. “Carrying that forward means protecting that foundation while evolving my personal approach to landscape design.”
That evolution recently took a new turn. Two years ago, Old Farm closed its retail nursery and sharpened its focus entirely on landscape design, installation, and long-term project management. It’s a more personal, more design-driven operation now, carrying every project from concept through construction and into ongoing care. “You’re only as good as your last job and your last happy client,” Murphy says, and the model is built around that accountability.
The nursery stock hasn’t disappeared. The property maintains a significant inventory of specimen trees, shrubs, and perennials, sourced through grower relationships spanning nearly 40 years and serves the firm’s own projects. Plants are available to anyone who asks, and watching that material leaf out and grow through the seasons is, Murphy says, the most helpful preview a client could ask for when selecting a tree or shrub for a site.
The setting itself is instructive. Old Farm occupies an early 1800s farmstead in the Litchfield Hills, where acres of display gardens have matured over decades alongside the family that tends them. The cluster of old structures and barns, the spaces between them, the way the land sits within its surroundings, all of it informs the work. “It motivates me to always consider whatever I am designing as part of a greater context,” he explains.
Old Farm’s process begins with a site walk and a conversation about how clients want to live in their space. Some properties call for a full master plan organizing circulation, structure, and plantings. Others need focused attention in specific areas. “Establishing relationships with clients that are more than transactional is important to me,” he says. “There is something personal about landscape design, just as there is something personal about interior design.”
Litchfield County demands a particular kind of respect when it comes to gardens. The rocky, hilly terrain and unforgiving climate leave little room for plants that can’t cope with a variable environment. Much of that sensibility traces back to his mother. Judy, who trained as a landscape architect at Cornell, built an extraordinary reputation in the county through patience, intuition, and what her son describes as an adaptive quality that is invaluable in the field. “It starts with the balance between expertise and restraint,” he says, “and requires you to check your ego.” But the fun is getting to wear all types of hats as every project is unique.
As for the most common mistake he sees? Thinking in pieces instead of as a whole. “Without structure and purpose, a landscape can feel disjointed,” he says. “I encourage homeowners to understand their real goal with a clear framework. Everything else follows more naturally from there.”—oldfarm.com





























