One Man Cross-pollinates His Love Of Science And Nature In A Glorious Garden
A garden mirrors the gardener. Peek at Michael Lee's garden, and you'll see an architect's fascination with art and science and his passion for collecting plants — daylilies, iris, fruit trees and bonsai. Lee has a knack for crossing blooms, so his collections are colored with his own creations.
Look again at this expansive, established place, and you'll also see that Lee is a bit compulsive — a necessity, he says, to keep it all going.
When Lee purchased his colonial-style house and 2 1/2 lots in Riverside Terrace 20 years ago, he tapped his understanding of spatial concepts. Over time, he phased in a pleasing series of outdoor rooms to surround the two-story home. He sculpted walls with massed shrubs and trees. He furnished the exterior spaces with vast collections that reflect his shifting interests, accessorizing with recycled stone and architectural follies.
The front garden is somewhat symmetrical, halved by a broad walkway of recycled, light-colored clay tiles softened by dark-green tufts of dwarf mondo. In spring, the garden is a spectacle of orange and yellow daffodils, red lapeirousia (Freesia laxa) and a magnificent Mexican plum.
As a cedar elm, the third largest listed in The Park People's 2005 Harris County Tree Registry, and other deciduous trees leaf out, Japanese maples and pentas color the understory shade.
The large arbor and brick patio just outside the home's living room offers shaded outdoor seating and a full view of Lee's "Allée of Planets," an orderly, intriguing space carved from a jungle of plants.
Bold, parallel lines of Bradford pears carry the eye to an amusing focal point: At the allée's end stand two pediments, each perched on a pair of columns. Large round concrete orbs — the planets — are placed among the classical ruins. The jungle that serves as the green backdrop is negative space to enhance the allée, Lee explains.
Framing one side of the allée are spiral and hydechium gingers (among them a Lee favorite, 'Fiesta', that doesn't flop in the shade). Ferns and brunsfelsia crowd a path of stone remnants salvaged from an old chemistry building at Rice University.
More gingers, bauhinias and crinums are massed along the path to the koi pond.
A monkey puzzle tree and mountain thistle are among the pathside notables on the way to a 25-foot brick-and-gravel circular garden behind Lee's home. At its heart, an enormous aviary houses exotic birds, including Spanish phantoms that roam free during the day, along with an unexpected companion, a 10-year-old red-foot tortoise from Brazil.
Lee's love of gardening began with childhood visits to his grandmother's farm. Also shaped by his adult interests and friends, his garden is a timeline of his fascination with daylilies, bonsai and fruit trees. Scientist JoAnn Trial, he says, sparked his interest in rainlilies, Louisiana iris, Freesia laxa, citrus, grafting and plant genetics. As a result, Lee has generated enough iris to fill a wetland.
Friend Chuck Gulick, he says, taught him to love fragrant old roses such as the yellow blooms of a massive 10-year 'Mermaid'.
Lee says the art of bonsai — the meticulous, meditative practice of growing miniaturized plants in containers — has sharpened his artistic, scientific and gardening skills. "I've killed my fair share of trees," he says. "You plant a tree that wants to be a 30-foot giant into a 12-inch-diamenter pot. Keeping it alive and making it beautiful are a challenge. You need to be compulsive. If this little tree is not watered daily, it is history."
To discourage the bonsai pots from drying rapidly when it's hot, Lee designed a piece of functional art — a tall, long table with a shallow pool as a top — to display his bonsai collection.
Lee also maintains an acre along an old railroad easement beyond his back gate. Lee and his neighbors planted it years ago to deter crime. It might not be there forever; the city and Texas Department of Transportation want to put a bike trail there.
But for now, it's lovely. Lee has framed a long grassy strip with roses; oleanders; his daylily, amaryllis and iris crosses; and citrus, pomegranates, plums, apples, figs, persimmons, peaches and loquats grown from seed. The north end is anchored with an enormous Confederate rose.
Benches, half-buried bits of stone and other recycled architectural elements add whimsical character to the broad, linear space. Other pieces serve as memorial plaques. Most striking is an 18-foot column, constructed from pieces found scattered in a stone yard, that honors friends Lee has lost to AIDS.
Look again at this expansive, established place, and you'll also see that Lee is a bit compulsive — a necessity, he says, to keep it all going.
When Lee purchased his colonial-style house and 2 1/2 lots in Riverside Terrace 20 years ago, he tapped his understanding of spatial concepts. Over time, he phased in a pleasing series of outdoor rooms to surround the two-story home. He sculpted walls with massed shrubs and trees. He furnished the exterior spaces with vast collections that reflect his shifting interests, accessorizing with recycled stone and architectural follies.
The front garden is somewhat symmetrical, halved by a broad walkway of recycled, light-colored clay tiles softened by dark-green tufts of dwarf mondo. In spring, the garden is a spectacle of orange and yellow daffodils, red lapeirousia (Freesia laxa) and a magnificent Mexican plum.
As a cedar elm, the third largest listed in The Park People's 2005 Harris County Tree Registry, and other deciduous trees leaf out, Japanese maples and pentas color the understory shade.
The large arbor and brick patio just outside the home's living room offers shaded outdoor seating and a full view of Lee's "Allée of Planets," an orderly, intriguing space carved from a jungle of plants.
Bold, parallel lines of Bradford pears carry the eye to an amusing focal point: At the allée's end stand two pediments, each perched on a pair of columns. Large round concrete orbs — the planets — are placed among the classical ruins. The jungle that serves as the green backdrop is negative space to enhance the allée, Lee explains.
Framing one side of the allée are spiral and hydechium gingers (among them a Lee favorite, 'Fiesta', that doesn't flop in the shade). Ferns and brunsfelsia crowd a path of stone remnants salvaged from an old chemistry building at Rice University.
More gingers, bauhinias and crinums are massed along the path to the koi pond.
A monkey puzzle tree and mountain thistle are among the pathside notables on the way to a 25-foot brick-and-gravel circular garden behind Lee's home. At its heart, an enormous aviary houses exotic birds, including Spanish phantoms that roam free during the day, along with an unexpected companion, a 10-year-old red-foot tortoise from Brazil.
Lee's love of gardening began with childhood visits to his grandmother's farm. Also shaped by his adult interests and friends, his garden is a timeline of his fascination with daylilies, bonsai and fruit trees. Scientist JoAnn Trial, he says, sparked his interest in rainlilies, Louisiana iris, Freesia laxa, citrus, grafting and plant genetics. As a result, Lee has generated enough iris to fill a wetland.
Friend Chuck Gulick, he says, taught him to love fragrant old roses such as the yellow blooms of a massive 10-year 'Mermaid'.
Lee says the art of bonsai — the meticulous, meditative practice of growing miniaturized plants in containers — has sharpened his artistic, scientific and gardening skills. "I've killed my fair share of trees," he says. "You plant a tree that wants to be a 30-foot giant into a 12-inch-diamenter pot. Keeping it alive and making it beautiful are a challenge. You need to be compulsive. If this little tree is not watered daily, it is history."
To discourage the bonsai pots from drying rapidly when it's hot, Lee designed a piece of functional art — a tall, long table with a shallow pool as a top — to display his bonsai collection.
Lee also maintains an acre along an old railroad easement beyond his back gate. Lee and his neighbors planted it years ago to deter crime. It might not be there forever; the city and Texas Department of Transportation want to put a bike trail there.
But for now, it's lovely. Lee has framed a long grassy strip with roses; oleanders; his daylily, amaryllis and iris crosses; and citrus, pomegranates, plums, apples, figs, persimmons, peaches and loquats grown from seed. The north end is anchored with an enormous Confederate rose.
Benches, half-buried bits of stone and other recycled architectural elements add whimsical character to the broad, linear space. Other pieces serve as memorial plaques. Most striking is an 18-foot column, constructed from pieces found scattered in a stone yard, that honors friends Lee has lost to AIDS.
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posted by Davor Novakovic @ Saturday, June 25, 2005
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