The Garden House

I guess that it's time to tell you about the house where I stayed in Arcata. I sublet a room in a shared house that I found through craigslist. Here's why it's called the Garden House.













I saw photos of the house from when the present owner bought it. The front and one side were covered by flat empty lawn. The third side by concrete. The only concrete left is a narrow strip in front of the gargage that is used for a patio.

The house is in the 'bottomland' on the ocean side of the town. It was originally salt marsh and would now not be zoned for building. Under the house is a sump pump for the rainy season. Fortunately, it wasn't the rainy season 'cause the pump is broken. There was no refrigerator in the house. Instead, there is a hole in the dining room floor that used to be part of the defunct central heating. A three sided box is set into the square ducting and used as a cool box. For most things, it worked ok, however, milk only lasted a couple days and I had to buy my beer cold and drink it as soon as I got home.

It was only a fifteen minute walk into town and another ten minutes up into the hills where there is a redwood forest remnant that is a city park. This is the lawn of the park.







Redwoods are amazing trees. Some of the oldest and tallest on earth. There is a tree that is living and they drive cars through! Not my kind of thing but it gives you and idea of their potential size. These are second growth forests. Still, the trees have a very soft bark. To be in a redwood forest is to be in a very gentle place. I would hike up into the forest and play my flute some days.


The Buckey Walters

Kitty corner from the Garden House lived a couple members of the Buckey Walters. The Buckey Walters are a bluegrass band and I could occasionally hear banjo being played over there. The mandolin player dropped in occasionally and we became friends. I heard them my first weekend when I biked an hour inland to the the annual Humbolt Folklife Festival at the little town of Blue Lake. They were one of my favourite acts of the day.

There is a town down the coast on the other side of the mountains called Boonville. In Boonville, they have their own slang called 'Boontling'. 'Buckey Walters' is what they called the phone box.




Don't know where to stick this photo. I thought it was a new age shop but it turned out to be a hairdressing salon.