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A canyon house in Santa Monica, set among a thicket of native sycamores and live oaks. The garden does very little to the land — it mostly watches — and yet every view from the house has been patiently composed.
The planting below the trees is all shade-tolerant natives; above, where the sun finds the terrace, a small Mediterranean palette. In two decades the canopy has closed over, and the garden has become a cooler room than the drawings imagined.






