Yesterday I was in San Francisco, and passed by the neighborhood where I grew up (near Miraloma Park), and went by our old house. 154 Ulloa. I lived there from ages 2-15. There were 26 kids on our block and we roamed and owned the streets. No TV in those days (the ’40s) and we listened to the radio religiously. Superman; Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy; Batman; I Love a Mystery; the Shadow…I used to dress up like Superman: red swim suit over Levis, and a dishtowel around my neck for a cape and I’d jump (fly) off the balcony to the grass below.

From author/artist Derek “Deek” Diedricksen:

“THE BOOK’S FINALLY HERE! ‘Gary Larson meets Bob Vila’ — housing/fort/small house/shack book…is a culmination of my love for ultra-tiny living, and covers some of the small houses and cabins I’ve unprofessionally built.…” https://relaxshax.wordpress.com/

We just got this email and photo from British Columbia about our book Builders of the Pacific Coast. It’s really gratifying to connect like this.

I just wanted to say thanks for this book. I have been looking for something like this for years. For the last ten years my dad, brothers and I have been developing a 5 acre parcel on an isolated island in Northern British Columbia. We have been living the pages of this book. Splitting shakes on the beach and scrounging driftwood. This book has definetly been a motivator through the long cold winter months, to get me renewed and excited for another year of building.

Thanks again,

looking forward to spring,

Jon Seinen.

We’ve had 3 years of dry winters, but this year the pattern has changed. We have these big zones of low pressure blowing in from across the ocean, not being blocked by high pressure, and it’s been raining bountifully. I’m in heaven. During dry years I fret sub-consciously about the dryness of soil and plant life. But now, there’s a joyousness in the hills. The plants they are lovin this! Creeks are rushing. The air is perfumed with energy. Yesterday I ran on a cold windy afternoon along the coast to an old ranch where there are a couple of lovely ponds with tules and water lilies, where for a few months in springtime I can slip into the pure green water and glide around.

Three of us took off about 6:30 last night, heading up the cliff-climbing trail south of Muir Beach. We’ve had a wonderful 5 or so inches of rain the last 4 days with powerful storms roaring in from the Pacific, The night was clear, but the next storm was hovering, so the air was supercharged. Up at “my” point, a finger of cliff aimed at San Francisco across the water, the wind was howling. A thousand feet down to boiling foaming crashing waves on rocks. My chi meter was maxxing out. Talk about feeling good!

I was dawdling and my two friends went on ahead and of course my light goes out when I’m still a mile and a half from the inn. There was a 1/4 moon and barely enough light for me to stumble along the trail. I got into it after a while, my eyesight sharpened and pretended I was a coyote; they don’t have no stinkin lights! It was kind of a thrilling experience, what with the storm energy, negative ions — and lucky, because if the clouds had covered the moon I ‘d have been on a cold hillside on a black night with no idea of direction home. My guiding spirits pulled me through (once again, thanks guys!) and I made it to my truck and warm clothes, pint of Guinness and the lads at a candle-lit table at the pub.