When architect Marta Hansen-Allbright bought her 1940s cottage nestled on three-and-a-half overgrown acres that were once an Annapolis nursery, she and her then husband, Kirk Allbright, had no idea what awaited.

As they made their way around the grounds for the first time that spring afternoon in 1998, every step brought a new discovery. In a corner of the lot, an old stone property marker inscribed with English script letters poked from the earth, nearly lost under leaves and green shoots. Around the grounds, Marta counted twenty-one arches made of bent metal pipe, encircled with weed-choked vines of rose and clematis. Grassy paths twisted through leafy canopies of spruce, maple, magnolia, and tulip poplar. “As the spaces magically unfolded,” recalls Marta, “I knew that this was a project that could keep my attention for a lifetime.”

The tangled landscape also contained azaleas, crepe myrtles, boxwoods, hollies, and dozens of plants Marta and Kirk later had to scour nurseries to identify. And at the end of a mulch-covered path tunneling through dense foliage, they were surprised to find a forty-by-eighty-foot grassy clearing with nine-foot azaleas around the perimeter—its privacy enhanced by dense arborvitae, threadleaf Japanese maples, and forty-foot-tall Yoshino cherry trees. Marta called it the Secret Garden, as full of mystery and promise as the wildly beautiful world of the 1911 novel of the same name.

Before buying the property, MARTA and Kirk and their four-year-old son, Wesley, had been living in a historic townhouse in downtown Annapolis. They weren’t in the market for a house, but one weekend, while visiting friends in the Pennsylvania countryside, Marta recalled a charming Annapolis cottage she’d read about in the newspaper two years earlier. “I mentioned to them how it was on the grounds of a former nursery, and I said, ‘I wish I’d bought it when it was available.’” The following Monday, she checked the real estate ads and saw a “For Sale by Owner” listing that intrigued her. “When we went to look at it, we parked the car and started walking around the garden. We hadn’t even gone inside yet when it dawned on me: It was the same piece of property. I was out there in the garden shaking.” That very day, Marta and Kirk made an offer.

The owner, who’d snapped up the site in 1994 when the ninety-two-year-old nursery owner died without heirs, wanted buyers who would preserve the remaining land. Already nearly nine-tenths of the original twenty-three-acre Bayberry Farms Nursery, which closed in the late 1980s, had been subdivided and developed. “It was the garden that attracted me,” Marta says. “I wanted privacy and a landscape project I could develop over the years. I loved that there was so much mature plant stock to work with.”

Marta and Kirk set to work transforming the garden and cleaning up the two acres the previous owner had not yet touched. They preserved as many plants as possible, keeping azaleas, boxwoods, and magnolias—some of which they moved to create symmetry. Marta, an architect and partner in the Annapolis firm Allbright Hansen Architects, added liriope as edging and groundcover, brought in peonies discarded from one of her job sites, and planted an herb and vegetable garden with rosemary, basil, oregano, sorrel, rhubarb, and tomatoes. “We got rid of huge bushes up against the house and transplanted twenty mature trees,” Kirk notes, a task they undertook to let in more light and prevent roots from wicking water into the basement. “We spent more money moving plants than we did on furniture,” he adds. “It felt very exciting as things started to shape up,” recalls Marta.

Tucked here and there among the foliage are whimsical sculptures created from metal and concrete by Marta, who earned a fine arts degree before studying architecture at Houston’s Rice University. It’s where she met her former husband; the couple are still business partners at Allbright Hansen Architects, designing residences and commercial spaces.

The English cottage-style home is a mix of rustic and formal—and like the garden, had a few surprises of its own. It was clad in white aluminum siding, which they peeled away to reveal the original brown cedar shingles—a charming complement to the stone chimney that dominates the front of the house. Inside, a massive granite fireplace spans a wall of the living room and a smaller one accents the master bedroom upstairs, both studded with stones from a now-defunct quarry north of Baltimore. When the Allbrights added a terrace outside, they searched as far as Vermont to find stone to match the look of the fireplaces. Sleek white Doric columns stand on the terrace’s chunky stone walls, an example of Marta’s penchant for opposites. “I find it interesting to use
disparate objects and come up with a balance,” says Marta, “to juxtapose opposite elements and join them together in a composition.”

Marta and Kirk renovated the original 1940s kitchen, adding modern appliances, sage-green cupboards, and custom oak cabinets, which they designed themselves to emulate those found in old apothecary shops. (Local cabinetmaker Greg Wheet built them, from quarter-sawn boards, cut radially across the rings of the tree.) A shelf above the refrigerator is mirrored, like a French bar back, to reflect bottles and other objects. “When things are graphically attractive, I like to set them out rather than keep them hidden,” Marta says. “We put windows in the upper cabinets because there are some lovely graphics in food packaging, and the glass brings that color into the room.”

Although they did not change the footprint of the ten-room house, they added a half-bath off the entryway, converted the third-floor attic into a loft where Wesley (now ten) likes to play, and created what has come to be Marta’s favorite space—the sunroom. “It’s so open and full of windows; it’s like you’re both inside and outside at once.” Arches in the house echo those throughout the garden. 

At the opposite end of the grounds from the house stands Marta’s studio, a concrete block building that used to house the nursery’s office. Besides upgrading the heat, wiring, and insulation, they installed new windows and sliding exterior pocket doors that, in warm weather, open an entire side of the studio to the outdoors. The studio’s scored concrete floor continues outside to form a patio encircled by boxwoods transplanted from near the house. After hiring a bulldozer to clear the overgrowth, they created a long, tree-lined alley with a fountain at one end, visible from the studio.

For Marta, an appealing living space needs the right blend of light, texture, and color. She loves natural materials and strives for a mix of playfulness and authenticity. Although the decor defies categorization, it has an arts and crafts feel emphasizing natural materials, fine workmanship, simplicity, and individuality of style. “I like to get away from the formulaic and follow my imagination,” Marta notes, “incorporating qualities that are timeless and things that intrigue.” She composed a plant stand from a length of steel beam she found on the street, topping it with a slab of broken granite that fell off a truck. A stretched cowhide hangs in the living room near a collection of miniature metal buildings. The inside walls and garden outside are accented with concrete yard art castings that look like remnants from an archaeological dig. Cabinets full of books line the walls where there aren’t windows, which are everywhere.

Springtime at the cottage means azaleas bursting into a breathtaking display of pink, red, white, and fuchsia. But the best thing about the garden, Marta says, is how strong it is year round. “Something is blooming ten months of the year. The fall colors are beautiful, and there are so many evergreens, it’s almost as green in winter as in the summer.”

After six years of work on the house and garden, Marta enjoys giving tours and seeing the results through others’ eyes. “From the comments they make, I learn about people and their memories, how they perceive things, the whole visual experience process.” It forces her to keep learning about her flowers and trees, she says, and people’s questions provide insights that help her grow as an architect.

As for the secret garden, it’s even better than when they found it. Marta added a cluster of cedar benches and her own unique touch—an obelisk she sculpted from raw iron bars, a tractor seat spring, and a stainless steel sphere that was a float valve in a brewery. “The spot is so peaceful, you feel like you’re in another world.” It’s here especially that she recaptures that nerve-tingling feeling of destiny on that first visit to what is now her garden home.

Freelancer Vicki Meade last wrote about “55-plus” communities for CL.