It is absolutely excruciating to read this particular letter of my DIY booktour/roadtrip in January 2006. I had just come to Santa Cruz due to Lili, the Rock Lady, who I had met on the ferry. I ended up staying in Santa Cruz for 6 months, and it was one helluva ride.
This is one instance where I let my romantic side interfere with my common sense and my intuition.
Before making a decision on where to live, I stayed a night in the main house where Janna and Fred lived. I woke up in the middle of the night with this oppressive feeling of some dark and heavy bearing down on me. I could hardly breathe and it scared the shit out of me.
That was all I needed to know. But I moved in anyway…
Big mistake. Huge. I did end up in a good place, but it was a crazy ride to get there.
Hey y'all,
I really meant to live in Santa Cruz, close to the beach.
I’d seen a place with deer running through the yard and the roommates - Meg and Christopher - were about my age and in a similar phase in life. They were very cool.
There was lots of light, and I liked the old farmhouse feel of the place - even if the landlord was an alcoholic, lived on the property, and sat in his oversize pick-up with his elbow jutting out aggressively, drinking cans of Bud and glowering at the house.
To make matters worse, he had relatives wringing their hands in anticipation of his death so they could get their hands on his money.
“He (the landlord) has been mad at me ever since I turned down his marriage proposal,” said Meg, as she showed me around. “Maybe he’ll fall in love with you, and I’ll be off the hook.”
Given that he was eighty-plus and had stalker tendencies, I sure hoped not.
I really liked Christopher and Meg, and had pretty much decided I’d love to live with them.
But I went ahead and came to see this place that was fifteen miles into the Santa Cruz mountains because I had an appointment.
And I keep my appointments.
“When you see James Dean on the left, take a right on Alameda…” said Janna over the phone.
I hadn’t met her yet, so my first impression was from her voice.
If caramel had a voice, it would be Janna's.
Her accent, breathiness, and tone of voice pronunciation bring to mind a flow of smooth, thick liquid sugar.
Oddly enough, her girl's girl voice is easy to listen to and she has many fascinating stories.
In her late fifties with three grown sons out of the house, she is not in my phase in life.
After driving through the Redwoods on Highway 9, I saw the mural of James Dean on the side of the Brookdale Lodge - which is supposed to be haunted - on the left and made an immediate right on Alameda…
I really meant to live where the action was, but I could not resist this place...
As I write this, I’m sitting here on a mini-stage built within a half-circle of redwoods.
I smell smoke coming from the stove, burning wood from the main house. The house was built in 1907 from virgin redwood, crammed with antiques, photos, artwork, and knick knacks.
Out back is a pool built during the 1920’s, I suspect.
On the north/northwest side of the pool is the cabana with bathroom and laundry room.
On the west side is the studio where Erin lives and behind that is the “secret garden.”
On the south-central side is the main house, behind it the cathedral-stage of redwoods, and behind that…is my space.
I live in a tiny house on the north/northeast side of the property, but I get the most sun. (This was before tiny houses were a thing.)
It’s uphill from the creek, and groove on the constant trickle of water - it's like those meditation tapes that people play when they need to chill.
On one side of my place is the chicken and rabbit coop.
The rooster is lazy about cockling in the morning, and all the chickens are in cages except for Cadbury, the breeder mama bunny.
She got out and still runs free, much to the chagrin of Erin Rose and Janna.
There is a light breeze blowing, the wind chimes are gently tinkling a harmony.
I also hear the chirps, peeps, and cackles of birds as beams of golden glow are streaking through the woods to light up this place nestled in the woods.
“We took out all the Douglas firs when we first moved in,” said Janna. “And the redwoods just shot up from there.”
“This place is very magical,” said Travis, Janna’s eldest son.
He wasn’t exaggerating; I feel like I’m living inside a fairy tale.
Welcome to my home away from home.
I live in the “playhouse” of this property, but I call it the hobbit house.
It’s the size of a shoebox, not even big enough for a double bed, but it gives me autonomy.
There is a huge window Janna recycled from an old schoolhouse on the south side of the building and when I walk out the door, one of the first things I see is that cathedral of redwoods kitty corner from my slice of personal space.
I have to go to the main house to go to the bathroom and use the kitchen, but I have the run of the property with my rent.
“This place was like Sleeping Beauty’s castle,” Janna said. when she described the forgotten cabin that had been empty for years at the time she and Fred bought it.
The people who live here could also be characters out of a novel.
“We’re an eccentric family,” Janna said.
First, allow me to introduce Erin Rose, the caretaker/adoptee who posted the ad.
Photographer, recluse, keeper of Cooper, the ugly cat, and would-be catcher of Cadbury, the runaway rabbit, Erin Rose made his new home here a few years ago when Christian, Janna's second son, told him his mom could use some help.
He has since become a part of the family and Janna’s best friend.
Sometimes it's difficult to tell who takes care of who, or what.
“People actually got offended when I said Chief likes white animals a little too much…(Yum!) in the ad,” he said.
He’d also described chickens, roosters, numerous rabbits (including Cadbury, the breeder), along with Chief, a big white dog, and Cooper, his road-scrapping tomcat.
To be continued…Remember Cooper, the road-scrapping tomcat.
