My father built this house when I was three years old. I remember being so scared by the sounds of the saws. My father saved the cedar roof decking and redwood beams for many years in his warehouse downtown on Paramore Street. The front lawn was intended to remain natural with sand and pine trees and pine needles until one day, Mr. Willie, my father's hired man, burned it all to the ground by mistake. My mother was so enraged and poor Mr. WIllie was in tears, afraid of "Miss Russ" as he called her. It was a lovely place to grow up. My mother was the architect and my father built it and I grew up there and loved it.
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