Remembering Mike Lee

That's me Tim Colman in blue shirt and Mike Lee, friend and plant genius artist. If I hadn't met Mike, there would be no Good Nature Publishing. He asked me to help him make a poster of NW Conifers and the rest is history.

My friend Mike Lee died a few weeks ago. He illustrated the NW Conifers, Broadleaved Trees, Native Grasses of California, Native Oaks of California and several other posters for me @ Good Nature Publishing since 1995 until I stopped making posters in 2015.

Our friend Arthur Lee Jacobson was kind enough to write an obituary for Mike that highlights where Mike lived amo ng plants and plant people.

I'm sharing Arthur's here as a friend's tribute to a wonderful human and good friend:

Plantsman Michael C. Lee

(1948–2026)

a fond reminiscence by Arthur Lee Jacobson

Mike was born on July 27th 1948. He grew up in Seattle’s Beacon Hill neighborhood, and passed away at age 77 March 23rd 2026 in Seattle’s Arbor Heights neighborhood (above Fauntleroy). In autumn 1984, Mike and I became acquainted and enjoyed over 41 years of friendship. It was love of trees that first prompted me to write Mike a letter, asking about oaks. At that time, I was writing my Trees of Seattle book, and Mike was writing a Pacific Northwest tree i.d. book. Hanging out with Mike, I learned a great deal about plants and their propagation. Also he and I introduced dozens of good people to each other.

In 1973, Mike graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in landscape architecture. He then worked for a couple of firms (notably Jongejan Gerrard McNeal), where his largest job was selecting plants for the Kitsap Peninsula’s enormous Trident submarine base. In 1979, Mike founded his own company. Also, he taught evening plant classes for the UW Experimental College, assisted by Steve Worthy—a fellow Seattle landscape architect. They did this for about ten years. Besides practicing landscape architecture and teaching, in 1976 Mike started Colvos Creek Nursery on Vashon Island, with Peter Ray. After some years, they each preferred their own nurseries. Mike retained the Colvos Creek name; Pete’s name was Puget Garden Resources. Mike catered mainly to the retail market; Pete the wholesale. Both favored plants that were undeservedly rare in western Washington gardens.

Not content to only practice landscape architecture featuring rare plants, teaching plants, lecturing about plants, and growing plants, Mike also skillfully drew plants. He illustrated posters, his catalogs and the like. He did 21 illustrations for my 1992 book Trees of Green Lake, illustrated my 1996 book North American Landscape Trees with hundreds of black & white drawings, and did the full color cover of the second edition (2008) of my Wild Plants of Greater Seattle. Tim Colman of Good Nature Publishing issued a half dozen posters featuring Mike’s color pencil artwork, the best selling such being Northwest Native Conifers. Mike also amassed a large collection of plant photographs. At the time of his passing from cancer, he left unfinished a color illustrated tree identification app for trees of the west coast.

Though Mike was just one of numerous landscape architects practicing in Seattle, his knowledge of plants excelled that of all the others. Obviously, each and every landscape designer or architect has personal favorite plants. In Mike’s case, he aspired to replace overplanted trees such as green ash (Fraxinus pennsylvanica) with rare trees such as laurel oak (Quercus laurifolia). Green ash leafs out late, presenting a bright green summer canopy that turns yellow and drops in October revealing bare branches all winter long. In contrast, laurel oak remains cheerful glossy green year-round. Generally, Mike favored planting more broadleaf-evergreen shrubs and trees —especially those adapted to our region’s dryish summers.

Mike wrote: “Gardens here should be made with more natives as well as more plants of unusual interest. Northwest gardens need more broadleaf evergreen trees and more winter-blooming plants, to cut the gloom of our gray winters. We should welcome into our landscapes many more plants that need no water once established and plant them generously to cut down on watering and weeding.” Some plants that were grown rarely —or even not at all— in Seattle, were promoted into popularity by Mike. Examples are the California waxmyrtle (Myrica californica), Australian gum trees (Eucalyptus spp.), manzanita shrubs (Arctostaphylos spp. & hybrids).

Over the decades, Mike propagated an astonishing number of different plants. He certainly set some kind of record. His annual nursery catalogs grew thicker, with more plants, more of his artwork, and reached their peak between 2003 and 2006. The last day of Mike’s Colvos Creek Nursery was June 29th 2014. Someone should collate the Colvos Creek catalogs to compile a complete A to Z listing of all the plants ever offered, with their pithy descriptions, some illustrated. The result would be a helpful book reminiscent of the famous Hillier Manual of Trees & Shrubs, but also containing herbaceous genera such as Iris. Here are 5 examples:

Arctostaphylos manzanita / common manzanita. A large shrubs or tree to 30 ft., holding its ovate, light green or blue green leaves on gnarled maroon

branches. White February flowers,

large tan berries. About the best

manzaita around here, fast growing and healthy; z8

Eucalyptus nitens / shiny top. Big,

silver juvenile leaves give way to foot-long sickle shaped adult ones in the robust tree of galloping growth; z8–9

Eucalyptus perinniana / spinning gum. 25–50 ft., wide topped tree. Silver-dollar juvenile foliage, willowy blue green mature leaves. One of the hardiest; z8

Kniphofia caulescens / Imposing clump of thick, blue-green aloe-like leaves, eventually atop a short trunk, topped

with spikes of creamy flowers tinged salmon on 6 ft. stalks; z7

Ribes bracteosum / stinking currant. Not stinking, but strongly aromatic, maple-like 6–10 in. leaves, foot-long flower streamers; 6 ft. native here

in moist forests; z7

During Mike’s life, besides designing client gardens, he also planted several personal gardens on Vashon and Maury Islands. His nursery moved at least 6 times. Every location was relatively rustic, with plastic hoop houses and tables of unpainted plywood resting on sawhorses. At one of his locations (John Rogers’ place on Maury Island), stood the national champion Sitka alder. Mike’s nursery catalogs—like his nurseries—were also low-tech: no color, no gloss, just lengthy listings in small type of plants currently offered.

Mike grew his plants from seed or cuttings; he did not graft, nor buy liners from other growers. Yearly he traveled between Seattle and Arizona, even México, to collect propagating material. He imported seeds from around the world. Friends and fans also provided him with seeds and cuttings. For example: Sallie Allen, Steve Antonow, Ian Barclay, Dan Borroff, Ron Brightman, Fir Butler, Frank Calia, Linda Cochrane, Carl Elliott, Jerry Flintoff, Stan Gessel, Dan Hinkley, Randall Hitchin, Sean Hogan, Tim Hohn, Vor Hosteller, Barbara Keller, Art Kruckeberg, Rick Kyper, Scot Medbury, Jon Nielsen, Dick North, Marian Raitz, Warren Roberts, Gil Schieber, Jason Smith, Madeleine Wilde, and Dan Zatz.

Before growing native plants had attained a near-religous popularity, Mike was well acquainted with growing most of the natives suited for landscape usage. Mike grew almost every kind of plant: grasses, annuals, perennials, bamboos, palms, succulents, ferns, shrubs, trees. He even could not resist certain plants he expected would perish in an old-fashioned winter freeze. It was always a learning experience to discover unexpectedly freeze-tolerant species.

Mike sold plants on-site at his nursery; at local plant sales such as those benefiting Washington Park Arboretum; at the Northwest Flower & Garden Show; at my open gardens; by mail-order using UPS to ship carefully packed plants; and to a limited extent sold some plants wholesale to other retailers. Though most customers were local, some included savy gardners and botanic gardens all over the country. He created his own blended potting mix of sand, shredded fir bark, trace elements, with Osmocote fertilizer. He preferred organic practices for weed control, and preferred a hand-held hoe to a nosiy string weed-trimmer.

Doing all this activity resulted in year after year of exhausting long hours, low financial return, incurring debt, and much commuting time. Nor found Mike time for romance or a marriage; he remained a bachelor. For many years, Mike’s residence was on Capitol Hill; his office in downtown Seattle; his garden on Vashon Island; and nursery on Maury Island! As Mike favored public transportation, he accordingly spent considerable time walking, riding buses and ferries. He could not have achieved what he did without possessing extraordinary patience, frugality, and having a gentle, winsome personality that attracted friends and volunteers to help him. And his employees and interns worked contentedly for low wages. Mike was quiet, self effacing man, not an extroverted, gregarious salesman. He had a green thumb, heart of gold, but not the marketing and business knack that allowed other nurseries and landscape architects to achieve financial comfort. He virtually never swore, frowned rarely, but smiled often, and was invariably generous.

For years, Mike maintained with many volunteers what he called the Vashon Botanical Garden, off SW Cemetery Rd., whose inventory in July 2001 listed over 2,000 different kinds of plants. Sadly, an ownership change resulted in Mike losing access. The garden’s genera having the most accessions were: Rhododendron 76, Ilex 70, Quercus 55, Hedera 52, Viburnum 47, Rosa 42, Eucalyptus 41, Chamæcyparis 35, Arctostaphylos 35, Cotoneaster 31, Penstemon 29, Buxus 27, Lonicera 26, Acer 25, Cistus 25, Salix 23, Lavandula 21, Prunus 20. Asking Mike what his favorite plant is, made him roll his eyes—too many were beloved.

Mike grew so talented and experienced, was held in such high esteem, that in his later years his landscape design business grew to consume most of his time. He teamed up with Spanish speaking, excellent workers who built as contractors the gardens he designed. Mike being bilingual enabled this cooperation.

Mike had non-plant passions, such as vegetarian cooking, and classical music. He played piano, and listened daily to Classic King FM radio. Among his favorite composers were Bach, Mozart and Hayden. Every year he loved to host a birthday party wherein he did all the cooking. This being in late July, meant hosting outside, often on toasty hot afternoons.

Mike’s final garden was at the house he rented from Sue Neill since March 2011. The lot is large—about a quarter acre. Mike loved this Arbor Heights garden dearly, and packed it with thousands of different kinds of plants, a fair number of them not existing anywhere else in Seattle. A who’s who of local nurserymen and plantsmen visited, to take cuttings, or donate rare plants to Mike; horticulture classes visited. The garden is remarkable for having sandy, well-drained soil, being less winter cold than most Seattle places, and also less summer hot. It is also notable for its dense planting. I told Mike: “This is just perfect —as long as your plants do not grow larger . . .” As Mike’s health declined and his ability to garden grew less, he was helped by various friends, most consistently by Ron Brightman, who on most Sundays drove all the way from Whidbey Island.

Fortune smiled on all of us who knew Mike; we have our personal cherished memories. However, even people who never met him benefit if they appreciate the delightfully diverse plantings in the Puget Sound area, both of Mike’s landscape designs and even more so of the tens of thousands of plants he sold or gave away. Many years ago (I forget when but ±1990) Mike gave me some little potted Eucalyptus trees to plant. Only one remains alive, among junipers on Interstate 5, at Seattle’s 50th Street overpass. It was damaged one year by a fire, but still has survived for decades without ever being watered in the summer. This is what Mike lived to promote.

Despite Mike’s award winning career, too little public recognition has been given, But in the Washington Park Arboretum Bulletin Spring 2005, plantsman Dan Hinkley published “A conversation with Mike Lee” It is defintely a worthwhile read, and can be accessed online. https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/237356#page/1/mode/1u

The preceding was written before Mike died, so he could read it, fix errors and improve it. Therefore, you, dear reader, know that this account garnerd Mike’s approval. Mike was preceded in death by his parents and sister; his brother survives him.

Charles Anderson:

I can still see his smile! I used his plants in my projects, like little children, when we picked them up. The world is diminished, but wherever he is, there's at least one new garden by now.

Walt Bubelis:

Having visited Colvos Creek Nursery several times led me to invite Mike to teach a summer class at Edmonds Community College (now just Edmonds College). It was an evening class but I met him before it started. He was carrying a shopping bag of some plants I had ordered from the nursery. He was surprised at how prickly one of the plants was, a Chionochloa conspicua, as it had poked him on the bus. I then realized that he came by public transportation and that this was a huge demand on his time. Thereafter, I didn't want to impose upon this generous offer to teach even though it meant such a time commitment. 

  His willingness to share knowledge about strange and wonderful plants extended into opening his garden to classes and to allowing cuttings to be taken which I shared with both the Calvert Greenhouse at the Arboretum and the Edmonds College Greenhouse. 

Jon Nielsen:

Probably the majority of Mike’s design customers were treated to colorized versions of their landscape drawings. This really allowed the vision to come to life and are regarded by the many lucky owners as framable one of a kind works of art. Mike did not use landscape design software as far as I know. Each carefully planed out design was hand drawn. Once he made a black and white drawing he set out to colorize it with those colored pencils that he has at his table neatly arranged with probably every hue he could find. The new owners were instantly pleased and confident in the vision.

The designs I got to work from had the garden details worked out to the inch in the landscape and everything worked nicely in real life, proportionate, balanced, the elements in scale with the site and other details. These plans worked well for the owner, allowing them to move freely through the garden and linger, relax or congregate in certain areas.

The plantings were always varied with different pleasing compositions of plants that work well together, in three dimensional layers and were easy plantings to maintain, where as the garden fills in the plants do much of the work, instead of weeds or hard to maintain plants. As you mentioned, his designs were water wise and improved the ecology with the diversity and the consistent use of native plants. Many flowering plants were also used, much to the delight of the pollinators and owners.

The four designs he did for my customers were at the end of his career and were among the last design jobs that he did. They are probably like all of his designs delivering the very best quality one of a kind work, even at the end.

Pete Ray:

As I recall, it was almost from the time I arrived at Colvos Creek Farm in 1982 as a caretaker that Mike began to talk of a fall seed collecting trip to California. I was mostly a plant idiot at that point, but I was there to learn. It was, after all, how I first met Mike—taking his Plants for the Northwest class twice at the UW Experimental College. I looked at the California trip as yet another way to become further immersed in West Coast native plants, as well as plants from elsewhere that grew well here.

There were two main destinations that I remember for our trip to the Bay Area: the Berkeley Botanic Garden and Strybing Arboretum, but it turned out to be a much greater adventure. Being that much warmer than Seattle, just walking around on the streets of Berkeley and San Francisco provided a show of plants in the landscapes that were an education unto themselves. But where streetscape plantings were bold statements of design, the intimate details of an obscure genus and species on the hillside above the Berkeley campus was interesting, but way above my novice plant head of the time. That being said, some plants were just cool without needing much of an explanation.

While Berkeley was an open and bright space with a warm southwest exposure, Strybing was more like our own Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle with plantings of specimen plants in an urban forest setting. We wandered the paths of the arboretum with Mike in the lead. The goal was never to take much—just a sampling of seeds with which to grow on some specimens at the nursery and see how they might fare in the Puget Sound climate. I do not remember if we were even taking any cuttings, and if we did, it was only a few. It seems like we had been there a while when, part way through grabbing a few seeds off a shrub, a park ranger on horseback came around a wooded corner. He rode up to us and asked what we were doing and were told that collecting in the arboretum was only allowed by special permission of the director. We asked if the director was around and were told yes, so we asked to see him.

The ranger took us to the arboretum office and explained there how we had been busted. The director was very nice and understanding and explained arboretum policy. When he asked what we were looking for I deferred to Mike because I did not have a clue. Mike, of course, had a want list and named a bunch of plants. As it was, Mike also had a list with him of all the plants he had grown at the nursery, so I suggested that he show the director the list. I don’t remember if the director got all the way through the list, but at some point he did pull out a piece of official stationery and listed three or four plants they were collecting from that year that we could not have, but stated that pretty much anything else was fair game. He also suggested that we make a special detour to Occidental on our way home to pay a visit to Marshall Olbrich at Western Hills Rare Plant Nursery. We thanked him and headed back into the arboretum.

I have no idea what we collected that afternoon; I think Mike was happy with what we had found. We probably should not have tested our luck anymore that day, but instead we decided to leave San Francisco and head toward Occidental. I believe we at least had an address from the director, but this was 1982, so the only other things we had were a paper map and gas in the tank. It was still light when we got to the wooden gate at Western Hills, but it was closed. I would not do this today, I don’t think, but I convinced Mike we should go in. Before we got to the front porch of the house, Marshall came out and greeted us by looking at me and asking: “Did JC send you?” This gave me pause, but as it turned out, I happened to be wearing my UNC Swimming T-shirt that day, and so, as we came to find out, Marshall had assumed we might be on a mission from JC Raulston and the North Carolina State University arboretum. I said no, and Mike mentioned the director at Strybing, and we got a complete after-hours tour, dinner and a place to stay that night. I bailed somewhere close to midnight with Mike and Marshall somewhere deep into some obscure genus I had no clue about.

We were sent off the next morning with a bunch of plants to try, and directions to the O’Brien bog outside of Grant’s Pass, Oregon. Marshall had assured Mike that it was a botanical wonderland, and even though it was just a wilderness detour up some logging roads into the woods, I could tell when we got there that it was indeed some place special. As we drove the dirt roads and climbed to higher elevations, I could see the plants change. Mike, of course, knew all about the manzanitas (Arctostaphylos) and native live oaks, as well as the stone oaks (Lithocarpus) and the dwarf bays (Umbellularia). It definitely did not take much to be awestruck by the giant stand of Darlingtonia, or native pitcher plant, that had spread themselves along a substantial weep in the hillside.

I would not have experienced any of this if I had not signed on to part of Mike’s dream at Colvos Creek Farm, and for that I will be forever grateful.