Rooftop Gardens

Eden's second story

Above the city's commotion, a landscaper creates an urban garden on his rooftop, graciously expanding his living space and doing the environment a favor too.

By Janet Eastman

Thursday July 03, 2003

STEP out of the window of David and Kim Zeil's second-story West Hollywood apartment and into their lives. It's on the roof where you'll get to know them: his passion for plants; hers for cooking; theirs for entertaining under the sun and stars.

Five years ago, John Zeil, David's identical twin, called him in New York, where he was working as an actor. A two-bedroom apartment directly across the hall was available -- one identical to his, with an identical rooftop just outside the living and bedroom windows.

David knew what to do: retire from acting, pursue his dream of becoming a landscape designer and move with Kim from their plant-less high-rise to this 1920s Spanish-style stucco. He would do for its roof what he had done three years before for his brother's -- transform the expansive flat space from a tar-papered eyesore into a beckoning floral retreat.

The layouts of the gardens are similar but not the themes. John's has a French Riviera feel with blue and white agapanthus and canvas awnings over the windows. David and Kim's is Tuscan with citrus trees and green awnings.

"When we invite people up here, they're so surprised," says David, who is a plant consultant for P.F. Chang restaurants and owns a landscape design company. "Their faces light up, and it makes us feel good. Few people get to experience this dimension of nature."

Like Peter Pan and Wendy, the pair climb through a tall open window in their living room to enter their levitated play yard. He tends to the variegated pink lemons that she makes into ice cream and lemonade. He trains tomatoes and herbs to lean against lattice slats, and she uses them in egg dishes for leisurely Sunday brunches.

"It's magical, beautiful, unexpected," says Kim, standing alongside her husband on the roof that grants eye-level views of swaying treetops and mockingbirds splashing in pedestal baths. "David loves his work, and it shows in this physical display. When I wake up and see this beauty, how could I not have a good day?"

The view changes dramatically from different angles. Look out into the distance and see the Hollywood hills. Look down the block and see Mexican and Queen palm fronds that are illuminated at night. Peer down into the courtyard that separates the apartments and there's a jungle of red bougainvillea, Australian ferns and Boston ivy.

But the scene from their bedroom window is the couple's favorite. David positioned a rose garden with a dozen Double Delights and Antique English shrubs so it's the first image Kim sees in the morning.

Transforming unused gray-scape to lush landscape does more than dress up the place. It enlarges living space. The Zeils' garden is almost triple the size of their 1,000-square-foot apartment, and they spend a lot of time there socializing, eating, reading and just being together. So do their cats, Cleo and Moogie, who sun themselves after a feast of cat grass grown especially for them.

"In L.A., we wouldn't want a cat exposed to the street or be let loose outside," Kim says. "But ours get the best of both worlds."

A rooftop garden creates an oasis from other urban woes as well. Tinkling water fountains soften the din of city life. Thick foliage provides privacy. Furnishings and plants are safe from theft, unlike those in easily accessible yards.

There are benefits to others as well. The Environmental Protection Agency encourages rooftop gardens because they're good for the planet. Plants pump oxygen in the air, trap pollutants, make shade. "Green roofs" insulate homes, lower heating and air-conditioning costs and save energy. They provide housing for birds and sometimes, as the Zeils have discovered, hungry raccoons, possums, hawks and herons.

Roof gardens have been praised since biblical-era Babylon. They're common in Europe, Asia and East Coast cities. But, laments David, they're not yet popular in sprawling Southern California. He's had clients admire his rooftop garden and ask him to duplicate it -- on the ground.

 Sentimental treasures surround the couple when they're on the roof. There are Italian ceramics from their three-month honeymoon seven years ago, including a porcelain mask with a crown of lemons they found in Siena. And Chinese good luck figurines -- frogs and foo dogs -- that were gifts from Kim's family. None fit in their compact apartment. But the rooftop space is so large that it is divided into "rooms."

The centerpiece is a lily pond in the "living room," where two plush chairs and a rocker share shade under a forest-green canvas umbrella. A koi swam in the pond until a bold heron snatched it away; now less showy goldfish ply the waters under the dolphin fountain.

The "kitchen" has a small glass table surrounded by sunny yellow chairs. Here, under a towering ficus tree, is where the Zeils share quiet breakfasts. The "dining room" has a large round table, eight cushioned chairs and a glass serving cart ready for guests. Each of two "bedrooms" contains a pair of chaise longues and end tables scented by fragrant gardenias.

There's a "tearoom" where Kim retreats after a long day working as a special events producer and a "workroom" for David, where hoses and terra-cotta pots lie in a willy-nilly mound, waiting to be put to use. Even though there are two dozen cushy chairs on the roof, David's favorite is the small paint-chipped wooden bench near his tools.

Making and maintaining a rooftop garden is not easy, but David has sidestepped a few of the pitfalls. Because all of the plants are in containers, he didn't have to lay down layers of subsoil, root barriers or waterproofing.

Drainage was solved by nature and patience: He installed a drip irrigation system for each container and monitored the runoff. He kept adjusting the water flow until he achieved an amount that is slowly absorbed into the soil without any lingering puddles. Because most of the plants are drought-tolerant natives -- from citrus to succulents -- the garden survives on two minutes of water each morning.

Water hoses and wires for low-voltage lighting and water pumps run undern containers and furniture. Exhaust stacks are hidden by side tables, clusters of potted flowers and barrel-shaped Chinese ceramic garden stools in glazed green, yellow and rust.

Weight is a concern for a rooftop garden, but David lightened the load by filling containers halfway with packing peanuts and compost concocted from clippings. The fountain and birdbaths are plastic, and slate tiles that dress up the formal English rose garden are wafer thin and tucked into stones to hide the edges. Most of the furniture is aluminum, not wrought iron.

The Zeils hired a structural engineer to make sure the roof would not be compromised by the added weight, and they limit the number of guests to a handful of family and friends. For safety reasons, they don't allow children.

They guess they've spent $5,000 on furnishing and maintaining the garden; David fusses with it about three hours a week. To them, it's worth every penny, every minute.

"I sit on my bench and look at the vegetable garden, and I think about what's growing," David says. "I'm on eye level with trees, and I'm thinking, 'Our tiny apartment is nothing to write home about, but it's unique. It's us.'"