Tour of Penelope Hobhouse-designed garden on Harris Boulevard
A belvedere “modeled after the music pavilion at Versailles,” according to the Open Days Directory.
We garden tourists knew this would be the most opulent garden on the Open Days Austin tour. A feature in the newspaper that tantalized with lavish photos, and mentioned that the garden was designed by Penelope Hobhouse, promised, “[You’ll find] enchantment that begs for lyrical descriptions . . .”
The park-like grounds, hidden in plain sight behind a high wall and tall trees, practically in downtown, had never been open to the public before, and no one, least of all me, wanted to miss it. So all of Austin apparently made a beeline for the Harris Boulevard garden, owned by Steve Hicks (former radio-station magnate and current chairman of an investment company) and Donna Stockton-Hicks (owner of a design studio), located in elegant Pemberton Heights. Lemming-like, I joined the throng of cars and people navigating the narrow streets surrounding the object of desire.
I had to park my car about half a mile away. As I hiked back to the Harris Blvd. estate, another home caught my eye : an ivy-swathed castle, complete with gargoyles and crenelated parapets. Now that’s not something you see every day. Keepin’ Austin weird, even in Pemberton Heights.
Could the Harris Blvd. house top this?
Yes, it could. Less gothic and more “Prince Charming,” this Italianate manse and its 4 1/2-acre garden delivered on the wow factor. Extravagant in the way that only years of money-letting allows, the garden is classically romantic. The entry court, pictured above, with its red-brick drive, elegant portico, and bas-relief elephants looks across to a tableau of urns and a wall fountain.
As in the David-Peese garden, fig ivy creeps across the architecture oh so naturally-looking, though this effect must require the indentured servitude of a staff of pruners. Look at how it drapes, like a swagged curtain, on either side of the fountain, carpeting the recessed spaces behind the urns and twining “effortlessly” around the columns.
Near the front of the house, a dozen frogs spout water into a long, narrow pool, adding a whimsical element to the classic design.
No lawnettes here. Flowing from the rear of the house, a sea of grass surrounded by mature trees emphasizes just how large this garden is. In fact, the lawn is only a small part of it.
Another view of the lawn from the terrace
Looping back toward the entry court, you descend a series of terraced patios to the most delightful part of the garden: a curving, stone path bisected by a rill. Hmm, do I sense a theme on this tour? Remember the rill in the stairs at the David-Peese garden? This one is even better. The garden’s formality eases here as the path gently curves, bending the rill along with it. Small boulders in the stream bring it chatteringly to life, as do delicate ferns planted here and there along its length. Small waterfalls mark changes in elevation.
The flowing water and curving path draw you along.
Periodically, a hidden alcove opens along the path, revealing a sculpture by Charles Umlauf. Behind Jesus you can see an expanse of woodland shade garden punctuated with native palmettos and, yes, azaleas. Azaleas do not grow naturally or well in Austin’s dry, alkaline soil, and I’m always surprised to see them used here.
A couple I met on this tour told me they’d spoken to one of three full-time gardeners working on this property. Three. Full-time. Occasionally, he said, they need six gardeners. Probably the azaleas explain at least half of them.
Ah, the money shot. The rill curves gracefully to the edge of a virtual lake in the rear garden. They call it a koi pond. It’s only a few feet deep but contains 125,000 gallons of water, according to the guide book. On the other side of the “pond,” a white folly rises from the water. The guide book informed me that it was a belvedere. I didn’t know exactly what a belvedere was, so after the tour I looked it up in the dictionary: “A building designed and situated to look out upon a pleasing view.” Uh-huh, that’s what it was, all right.
Eurydice and the serpent? She seems kind of plunked down here compared to the careful placement and elevation of the Umlauf bronzes.
Back at the house, I noticed this intricate gate set in a fig-ivied wall. Gorgeous! It reminds me of garden gates in Charleston or New Orleans.
I’m still amazed to recall the size and classical ambition of this in-town garden. That the house and garden can still be privately owned further astounds me. Think of the taxes! Though I felt a certain detachment from this garden (only because it is so far out of reach), what an enjoyable, wow-inducing stroll it was.
Click here for my post about the Arth garden. Tune in tomorrow for the Hornickel garden.
All material © 2006-2008 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.
“Extravagant in the way that only years of money-letting allows”, that made me chuckle.
Another very green garden, I like that, but it did not seem to have as much plant variety as the David-Peese garden and seemed to go more for a park like look and feel which is easy to do with four and a half acres.
I can see me being the head gardener for an estate like that. It might be nice to have just one place to be responsible for and make it great.
I didn’t notice this or convey it with my camera, but according to the Open Days guide, this garden contains “thirty-five different palms . . . . From native to exotic, there are literally thousands of different plant species . . . in this woodland garden.” So there’s more than meets the eye, but perhaps the size of this garden fools the eye into just noticing the green of it (plants and money).
Christopher, when you move to North Carolina maybe you should apply for a gardening job at Biltmore House in Asheville. The estate gardens there could certainly keep you busy. —Pam
Isn’t that ivy-covered castle the one converted from an old water tank–now owned by Robert Rodrigues and rumored to be in the process of being sold to Quentin Tarantino?
As for the Hick’s garden, I could imagine that lushness better in San Antonio. It must have cost a fortune to keep it going through Austin’s last summer. I wonder if someday they’ll donate it to the city as a park like Mayfield Park. Of course, if they do it will fall into ruin as we don’t have the money to keep up our current so-called botanical gardens.
Interesting. I wonder what it would be like to have QT for a neighbor?
M., I had the same thought : someday this will belong to the city or state, and it will fall into disrepair because of our inability to fund our parks. Sigh. —Pam
Sorry for the double-comment but I just went off to read the newspaper article you linked. I find it amazing to discover that any garden in Austin was designed by Penelope Hobhouse. More interesting, though, is how her design had to be reworked because she chose plants not well-suited to Austin…”many of the plants installed by Hobhouse couldn’t survive in Central Texas and needed to be replaced.” And also, “The garden was also geared to be at its best in spring and early summer, in the English fashion, whereas the Hickses are more likely to entertain outdoors during the temperate fall and winter months.”
So even a famous designer like Hobhouse can totally ignore site and climate when creating a garden? Amazing.
Nice, too, to learn that the garden relies on water from a well and so the owners don’t have to worry about the water bill. No wonder it’s so green!
If even a famous designer can make such glaring mistakes, it kind of gives hope to the rest of us, doesn’t it? —Pam
That article by Julie Bonnin made me want to see the Harris estate, not on tour before, and I’m so glad we got there. It was lots of fun. Pam, your writing about this place is so delightful and insightful and what photos you managed to get in such a crush of people! The runnel was my favorite part of the whole estate, too, along with all the enormous stone containers full of citrus trees. Just walking around was very pleasant, because there was high shade from incredibly huge and ancient trees.
It didn’t feel like anyone’s garden, of course, definitely someone’s estate, or an extremely high class park. There was a swimming pool with adjacent playground in a gated and hedged area where it would be convenient, but not mess with the views. The play equipment was superb, and the whole thing was cushioned in thick pine straw, very nice and safe. There were some woodsy areas where you could walk along what might be a creek in wet weather.
You are right about the whole place being green! The few flowers were ridiculously common – come on! All that land, water and dough, and they have a mixed bed of impatiens out at the gates [it looked like the entrance to a restaurant], and some pink and white impatiens inside? The rose garden had a few pink rosebushes, a larger stand in tasteful white – big whoop. The belvidere looked out at some water lilies on the pond. For me, the enormous potted magenta bougainvillea in juxtaposition with the red-orange bricks on the terrace was a painful combination. Well, actually, I just hated the way the reddish brick pavements looked with the house, too.
I talked to a person who has lived in that neighborhood for years, and remembers when the four and a half acres of rather wild woodland were still visible to the neighborhood. Tall walls enclose the whole thing now. I don’t know if it ever looked like Central Texas, even back when the cotton mogul had it built – the native plant thing is pretty recent. There were some cool Bald cypresses with knees sticking up by the belvidere, and I saw a lone Sophora secundiflora/Texas Mountain laurel near the house. In a sort of cubbyhole bed around the corner from the terrace, there were a few Malvaviscus/Turkscap plants, but I saw no butterflies or birds while we were there. Too many people? Or not enough food plants?
Annie
Annie, you noticed a lot more about the plants than I did. I think I got caught up in the architecture of the place. Or maybe the green but uninteresting plant combinations simply failed to catch my eye. I totally missed the swimming pool—didn’t even know it was there. I did see the playscape and had several minutes of angst wondering how a couple young enough to have small children could afford this home, but then someone told me it was for their grandchildren. Whew! In any case, this property would be a child’s paradise. Forget the playscape! All any kid needs for perfect happiness is an acreage like this to run wild in. There were so many areas to explore: woods, dry creek, pond, huge trees.
You are right about the red-brick driveway. It just didn’t work with the house. Now cobblestones would have been perfect, or even gravel edged in stone, in the style of those old English “cottages.” —Pam
The Historic Gardens Manager at the Biltmore Estate is still listed as open after almost a month. I mentioned this job to my mother a few weeks ago and she hollered at me to apply. I think I should really work on my resume this weekend. The North Carolina Arboretum is another great possibility for me.