We traveled back to Mendocino, California yesterday from Portland, Oregon, a twelve hour drive with stops for gas, rest rooms, and a picnic lunch. The three cats in their cages were so well-behaved this time. I think they knew they were headed to the place they love most. I took this photo just as we arrived at the Pacific Ocean on Highway 1 around 8:00 PM. From here we had about another 55 minutes before we pulled up in front of our little house.
From time-to-time I am asked about life here in Mendocino. I have never really shared the story of how I came to live here, so I decided I would describe the house and a little personal history. When people who are familiar with the area realize you live in Mendocino, a small town on the Pacific Ocean about three and a half hours north of San Francisco, they always ask if you live “in the village.” Well, we do, on a street directly east of the ocean.
This is a partial view of the village from my husband’s upstairs study.
I met my husband about 14 years ago, after I had moved to San Francisco from Ashland, Oregon. Shortly after our meeting, he brought me to Mendocino so he could introduce me to the town and see the house he owned. At the time he was working in Oakland just across the bay from San Francisco, but he would travel north on weekends to this coastal town whenever he could manage. I had never been here, but had heard of it and recalled it as a regular location for some famous movies as well as a well-known hippie town. My first visit was a bit underwhelming. I loved the beauty, but the town itself seemed a bit rough around the edges. Now, over time, it has become a little too refined, and I long for the days when it seemed less trendy.
Over the years, I have put much into the house and garden. I have wallpapered every room with the exception of the tiny kitchen, bathroom, my husband’s study, and what we call “our reading room.” Wallpaper is my weakness, and I think this is because it is so close in appearance to textiles. This room above is the main living area with the kitchen just behind.
This is the downstairs bedroom, and we use it as a guest room. Our stairs are pretty steep and not conducive to easy access for guests to the only bathroom we all share which is downstairs off this bedroom.
The dining room actually was the living room when I first visited. Later we remodeled and what was once the large kitchen became the living room, and the laundry room became the small kitchen.
When I was deciding on the kitchen colors I was inspired by a room I had seen in The World of Interiors that used many colors in the small space. I chose seven colors, but my favorite is the blue that frames the window looking out on the back garden.
The stairs, as I have said, are a bit treacherous. I think we have all taken our turns falling down them at one time or another without injury, and that is quite remarkable.
This photo was taken in the morning without the flash.
This photo was taken late afternoon with a flash. The sun is always brighter in this room in the late afternoon.
This is our bedroom off my husband’s study upstairs. Of all the bedrooms of my entire life, this is my favorite. It is so immensely comforting going up here to bed. It reminds me of sleeping in a gift box turned outside in. There is not a place on earth that could compare to its coziness, comfort, and enveloping cocoon quality. This brings me to another distinction of this house. It has never been pretentious, particularly as seen from the street. I think this is why people love to stay here. It has this warmth and a kind of soft feeling, an embrace, once you enter. This has nothing to do with decorations. Any one who has ever lived here, even when it was in its most pared-down state, has always commented on the “heart” that one feels here. And I have to admit when family comes to stay, we all have a hard time getting out of our pajamas much before noon or even sometimes by three in the afternoon. We joke about it whenever we congregate here, but we are always quick to defend our right to melt into the rooms.
This is a view of the back out the bedroom window. In the distance is the little house I have shown previously and the garage that is off to the left. It was moved further back off the street before my husband bought the house, and now we use it for our laundry area as well as gardening tools and storage.
This was once a third bedroom, but when my husband retired and we moved to Mendocino full-time some years ago, we turned it into a “reading room” because it faces west and the quality of the light in this room is so breathtaking, we simply wanted to spend more time there. For years it had been painted white over layers and layers of wallpaper. A few years ago, I peeled and stripped the paper off and painted it the original color that it had been many years ago.
A watercolor of Mendocino by A. Stump 1994.
How we came to live here full-time and eventually moved to Portland is another story, but one story stays the same. Mendocino is the longest I have lived anywhere in my entire life, and coming back here always feels like coming home, a true coming home.
