Windows Down. Music Loud. Cabin Click: Issue 006

Somewhere on Highway 1, it hit me.

May 07, 2026

I’ve done this drive a hundred times.
Same turns. Same trees. Same pull toward the cabin.

But this time felt different.
Because somewhere along the way… the to-do list disappeared.

There’s a stretch of the drive up to the cabin where everything just melts away.

You leave the last bit of wifi signal behind, the road starts to wind, the air changes, cooler, quieter, a little sharper. The stress of the city feels like a distant echo.

Then the ocean sings, redwoods creep in just enough to make it feel like you’ve escaped into a fantasy land. Like, really. The Cabin is off of the bucolic Highway 1 in Northern CA, and I just wish I could take y’all guys with me. Maybe one day.

I don’t know how to articulate the feeling. I’ve done this drive so many times now, passing my favorite places to take a dip - or stop for a sip of wine, sometimes sleepy-eyed, usually thinking about the next design dream to tackle next, or what I need to fix, install, or simply figure out. I don’t care, it’s all my path to choose.

But this last trip?

The drive hit differently.

This may contain: an old radio sitting on top of a green car's dash board and steering wheel

Somewhere on the gentle curves of the highway and the spray of the ocean, I realized that my dreams aren’t something I’m working toward anymore.

My dream is here, and now. I’m living it. What a gift. I’ve got nothing to prove, and no one (or place) to catch up to. Just the meandering thoughts of my own thoughts, and for that I am eternally grateful.

This place I’ve dreamt about, been imagining, is here, and it’s not just a building. It’s a manifestation of all my hard work.

And for the first time, I just let myself win, and for a while, I just sat with it.

Windows cracked. That one song on repeat. Music loud. Trees blurring past.

I was just… driving, flying really. Thanks for being here and being a part of the dream.

But like all dreams, I flutter to the next…

The Shift: From Projects to Systems

Up until now, this cabin has been a series of decisions.

Some good. Some… we don’t need to revisit again. (the flood)

Floors. electrical, the well, then a bed, vintage Sofa. Land. Repeat.

But lately, I’ve been thinking less about what’s next
and more about how everything works together.

Because here’s the truth, no one really tells you:

A beautiful space that doesn’t function well?

It gets old fast.

So now I’m thinking in systems:

How I actually cook - need a strong vent hood and the perfect placement for the kitchen sink, drawers, and dishwasher. I want to maximize my kitchen reno.
How we actually sleep (after a long, cold day) - still have to hang a Japanese Nogochi-pendant light and bedside wall sconces for reading and that soft, warm glow you crave in the evening.

How the land sustains itself without babysitting - switching the spray sprinklers to drip emitters and adding a few extra emitters in dead zones. Water conservation is key. Keeping things lush is a must.
How the living room invites you to stay - not just pass through - we need 2 accent chairs to place opposite the sofa for late-night gossip sessions, a chandelier, and the most delicious vintage rug. More on that below. I I have to provide some contrast. This brown abruzzo leather might be it. Am I a leather guy now? Send help.

But also, I need a place to work….

Which got me excited about the Emma Chamberlin line at West Elm. Her line is quirky, bold, and utterly joyful. I’ve been scoping this mid-century-inspired desk to place between the closets in the loft bedroom.

Tell me it’s not perfect for the space? The trick to a Lux mid-mod look is to incorporate some chrome. Trust me.

And honestly, this shift feels like growing up a little…

Annoying. But necessary. I guess I can adult - if I have to.

The Living Room Finally Feels Like Ours

For months, this room was chaos.

Exposed subfloors live.
Dust everywhere. Freezing drafts - the kind that chill you to the bone.
A random fold-up chair you sit in like it’s a waiting room.

Before + WIP after of the cabin living room

And now?

We have floors and a sofa - and a rocking chair, even.

And I cannot overstate how life-changing that is.

I sat down the other night, fire going, and just… didn’t get up.

No phone. No TV. No agenda. Hours slipped away into the glow of the fire. Just staring out into the trees like some kind of 1980s rom-com.

It’s funny
You don’t realize how much you miss simple comforts like sitting in a chair until you get them back.

Stay tuned as we slowly style this space. First up…

I can’t Pick Just One Vintage (inspired) Rug

Picking rugs is like picking your favorite puppy. They are all good, and I simply want to just go home with every single one of em’. But, I’m an adult (sorta), and that just isn’t practical.

Vintage Inspired Rugs Affordable — Vintage-inspired rugs you can get shipped right to your door, that don't (totally) break the bank.

But I can’t decide on a rug. I’m currently circling the 9 options above. So, when I can’t wait to find the perfect vintage piece, I splurge and have it shipped to me. This is my favorite place to get a good vintage-inspired rug that doesn’t absolutely break the bank.

Which rug do you think will work best in the cabin living room? Can’t wait to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment with your thoughts below.

Designing the Land to Just Be

Last week, I told you the land is starting to define the cabin.

This week I realized something else:

It’s not asking for permission.

It already knows what it wants to be.

And my job?

Is to not mess it up.

So instead of over-designing it, I’ve been walking it. A lot.

The apple trees were blooming…I love this time of year here.

Gravenstein apple tree blossom and landscape inspiration

Morning coffee in hand, stepping through patches of clover, noticing where the ground dips, where the light hits, where things naturally want to grow.

And it’s clear:

This place wants to be a meadow.

Loose gravel. Layered. Slightly wild. I am 100% decided. For now…I’ve been in a debate about loose gravel paths. G has an aversion to pebble gravel, but I think it makes the most sense given the tight soil that rests here. Intentional, charming, and functional. I’ll wear him down, I always do.

Honestly, I would rather restrain myself than overly design the landscape. This feels right.

The Deck, a Hot Tub & a Vision

I’ve been replaying this moment in my head:

You step out of the cabin barefoot.
Coffee or wine in hand (depending on the hour).
The air is crisp.

Instead of a single flat deck, the space unfolds -
gentle step-downs, following the land rather than fighting it.

And then, almost tucked away

A hot tub.

Inset into the deck. Quiet. Integrated. This is the way.

Not screaming “look at me,” but just… there. perched over the land.

Steam rising into the trees.

The kind of thing you don’t photograph perfectly,
But you remember forever.

That’s the goal now.

Not just a design that looks good.

Design that feels like it always existed.

We wired the house for a hot tub almost two years ago, and now it feels like the right time to bump this up in the priority list. Budget, and priority list be damed. We earned it.

The Analog Layer I Can’t Stop Thinking About

This one surprised me.

But the more time I spend here, the less I want screens, noise, and constant input.

I’ve been thinking about building in analog moments:

A corded phone on the wall (pure nostalgia, but also… kind of chic?)
A real espresso setup - no pods, no shortcuts
A record player with a small, intentional vinyl collection
A proper library corner with vintage books that feel discovered, not bought

And here’s the thing

This isn’t about aesthetics.

It’s about pace.

Because when everything is analog, you don’t rush.

You listen to the whole album.
You make the coffee properly.
You sit longer than you planned.

And I think that’s what I’ve been chasing all along.

Recipe of the Week: Lemon Chicken & Orzo

I made my lemon chicken orzo pasta after a full day at the cabin last weekend.

Cold. Slightly exhausted. Definitely over it. Three of the sprinklers were shooting water on the way out. Whatever. I’ll deal with it later…

Yet somehow, this came together in one pan, with minimal effort, and felt like something you’d order at a restaurant.

Bright lemon. Tender chicken. Orzo soaking it all up.

We took it outside, sat on the (temporary) deck, and just… relaxed.

That’s when I realized:

The best recipes out here aren’t complicated.

They just meet you where you are.

What I’m Working On Next

Not dreaming - actually doing:

Locking the kitchen layout (no more endless tabs open)
- we finally centered the sink under the princess window
- have a 15” inch overhang for the bar now
- added a lazy-susan to zone 1 and 3 for extra storage
Mapping the deck extensions and elevations
Planning the hot tub integration (very serious about this)
Expanding drip irrigation across the property
Figuring out lighting that makes nights feel glowy, not bright
Starting to collect analog pieces slowly, intentionally