Hortense Miller's tapestry of plants on a Laguna Beach hillside is still growing strong and drawing visitors from around the world.
CHRISTINE HANLEY
Times Staff Writer
January 3, 2005
Hortense Miller stirs from a morning nap with the sun spilling into her bedroom. The walls around her are splashed with shadows of wild plants twisting outside in the cool sea breeze. Through a back window, birds are fluttering nearby, darting in and out of treetops.
Miller, "the Green Woman of Laguna Beach," puts on her eyeglasses, touches up her puff of white hair and yawns. Four years shy of 100 and hobbled by a broken hip, she apologizes for not having the strength this day to walk through the garden that made her famous. But on her hillside perch overlooking the Pacific, there's hardly a place she can go without being in the middle of it. She planned it that way.
The Hortense Miller Garden, which sprouted in 1959 and covers 2½ acres on a steep slope of Boat Canyon, has become a local treasure that attracts visitors from around the world. Its rambling landscape has a personality and charm all its own, just like the artsy village down the hill and the wisp of a woman who has been nurturing it all these years.
With Miller's creative and environmentally sensitive touch, the garden has evolved into a montage of plants of all shapes and species that can grow in Southern California's climate. Native coastal sage-scrub covers one large swath, in an effort to preserve the species. Another section is chock-full of perennials, providing a burst of colorful flowers year-round. There are eucalyptus over here and coral trees over there, and large succulents and golden bamboo. After two devastating fires, in 1979 and 1993, Miller let the garden grow back naturally as much as she could, giving it even more of a special flavor. The use of fertilizers and chemicals is limited.
The garden spills gracefully from Miller's home. Built in the modern, airy style of the 1950s, it blends nature with the interior in as many ways as possible. Whether in her main living room, or from the wings that bleed out into the gardens, Miller can view the ocean while enjoying the lush vegetation.
Large picture windows frame many rooms, in some places making it seem as if there is no barrier between indoors and out. A bathroom has the feel of an intimate greenhouse, with a sunken tile tub surrounded on three sides by glass.
In the 1970s, Miller donated the garden to the city on the conditions that she live on the grounds until her death, and that it remain open to the public afterward. Tours are arranged by the city, from 9:45 a.m. to noon Tuesdays through Saturdays except holidays. Miller tries to greet as many visitors as she can. But she has given up running the garden because the hip she broke last year hasn't healed. The nonprofit Friends of the Hortense Miller Garden, which has about 100 members, was formed to help preserve and care for the property.
Marsha Bode, who has volunteered at the garden for nearly 15 years and has managed it since 1995, says Miller amazes people with her botanical knowledge, discipline and creativity, and the attention she gives to world affairs.
"Her personality crosses all age groups. Anybody can sit down and talk to her and enjoy it," Bode said. "She's certainly one of the most unique people I've ever known.
"She has certain ideas on how the garden should look, and how the world should be. And she continues to learn even up to this day. Just recently she's slowing down — and just a tiny bit."
Miller's first name — a coincidence, she says — means "gardener" in Latin. She said her passion blossomed in her early childhood in St. Louis. It was there, outside the family's flat, that she planted a small patch of geraniums and sprinkled it with the seeds of day lilies and portulaca, which is better known as moss and grows bright, colorful flowers.
When her family moved across town, "it broke my heart," she said. "I have a habit of being very fond of the place I live. I like the country and the dirt and the parks. I really fall in love with the land itself."
Miller continued to garden and incorporated her passion into her curriculum when she became a teacher. But it became a lower priority once she met Oscar Miller, a Chicago lawyer, and love blossomed.
"I didn't expect to get married. I didn't want to. But he amazed me. I didn't know men could be as nice as he was."
After their wedding, the Millers — wealthy and without children — lived on a farm in northern Illinois and then traveled the world. They moved to California after Oscar, who was much older than his wife, became ill. The couple knew he didn't have much longer to live, and Miller knew there was only one thing that might keep her happy after her husband was gone.
"I wanted a garden more than anything," she said. "And I had always expected to get to California eventually, because I knew things would bloom all year. Oscar was getting old, and I knew I would soon be alone and the garden would keep me going."
They drove back and forth between San Diego and Newport Beach, scouring every available parcel along the coast before finding just the right spot in Laguna Beach — one large enough for the home they wanted to build and to accommodate the gardens they envisioned.
Miller's husband helped plant the first seeds, bringing home bulbs and bushes and planting them himself. He died soon after the house was finished in 1959.
Miller still misses him. She said he was too special to replace, and she never expected to outlive him for so long. The garden certainly can't fill those holes, but it keeps her going.
"I just have to have a garden."