A Three Part Obituary

Here once stood Big Trees Cabin. Built in the early 70s by Michael and Sharon Cardno. Technically a goat barn, eventually a home of love and lovers, this cabin was witness to the birth of Bode, Melia, and Naia—all of whom were coached into life by the same midwife. It held Jamyrson, Regina, Joel, Erik, and Mary, to name a few. Eventually we bought it and I wrote three novels at the kitchen table, Walt spent covid in the same place keeping Zoom running while the world discovered the tool, and as an Airbnb listing, it hosted over 300 different reservations. People from all over the world celebrated within its walls. Two more children were conceived there, two couples got engaged, and another decided to elope after spending a night in the magical, moonlit forest. It housed a library over 1000 books, as well as family and friends who visited us in California. Big Trees Cabin is survived by all of those who lived and loved within it.

Here once stood the garage at Big Trees. Within it, much ping pong was played by the Bonny Doon Gentleman’s Leisure Club. Our cats loved to hunt the rats that lived within. Our cars and Christmas ornaments were stored there. Tools from grandfathers made their home within these walls as well as many fine vinyl records. Several dance parties were held within and around it. The garage is survived by Walt and all the men of the BDGLC who played together under the moon and the stars and the great, big, trees.

Here once stood our home. Shelter from the storm. Refuge from the dysfunction of the world. While the world around us became more divided, we Andersons lived within these walls in peace. Built by Michael and Sharon Cardno in 1979, this house was more like a tree house. Every window meant to gaze upon the beauty of the trees that inhabited this property. Every room designed to see out, to be out, rather than in. Within these walls, we finished raising our sons. We loved. We hosted silly hat parties and dinner feasts and Thanksgiving and Christmas. We fell in love with our community here, one we don’t want to leave, but were thrusted from never-the-less. This house was the home of my heart. The place I felt at one with universe of life. Our home is survived by Walt, Nicole, Jackson, and Michael Anderson. We will miss it dearly. No home could ever replace it. No place will ever be home in the same way again.

These structures died on 8/19/20. Taken in the wildfire they call the CZU Lightning Complex. They will not be there for our grandchildren. They will not house another family. They will not host another guest. Perhaps there will be other structures to live among the Big Trees, but these three have passed on to another realm. Like any other physical being who has died, their part in the story is over.

I’m grateful to have spent twelve years within their presence. I will always miss them no matter where life takes me.