Love, Sweat and Tears
Living Room | July 2008
The Greenberg's Igo Home
Story: Kerri Regan
Photos: James Mazzotta
Situated on a 20-acre patch of heaven in the country, Bruce and Doni Greenberg’s country home is a 2,388-square-foot storybook.
Carefully hand-milled cabinets tell the tale of an accomplished woodworker whose paintbrush is a saw. The kitchen, the heart of this home, is an efficient classroom for a chef with a passion for teaching culinary skills to kindergartners through retirees.
Masterful stained-glass pieces honor Mindy Greenberg, Bruce’s artist-sister who recently died of cancer. A painting that Bruce’s late mother created in high school hangs on their bedroom wall, and Doni’s mother’s table anchors the breakfast nook.
And from the paint to the studs, the home bears the blood, sweat and tears of three family members who, under Bruce’s tutelage, evolved from carpentry novices to accomplished builders: Doni’s sons, Josh and Joe Domke, and Doni’s nephew, Matt Shively. They hired pros for the framing, plastering, sheetrock and roof, but did the rest themselves. After 14 months of construction, the Greenbergs moved into the home in November 2005.
Perched on a hillside with views of nothing but mountains and wilderness (“there’s our neighbor,” Bruce quips, pointing to a single distant light in the darkness), the one-bedroom home is a model of energy-efficiency, utility and frugality.
Designed by local architect James Theimer and the Greenbergs, the outrageously open floor plan connects the kitchen, living room, dining room, office space and master bedroom. Closed-in spaces are restricted to the bathrooms and a TV/music/guest room.
Artistically, the home’s primary trademark is a “cloud lift,” a classic design from the Arts & Crafts Movement, which echoes throughout the house from the beams to the toe kicks. As you walk east, the influence becomes more Japanese.
A humble budget and a consciousness to minimize their footprint didn’t force them to downsize their dreams. “We tried really hard to be creative bargain hunters,” Doni says. “We hunted for nearly a year before we started building to find materials that were discontinued, salvaged and even slightly used. We stored stuff to the rafters in our Redding garage.”
They shopped locally whenever practical, but to stick to their “tightwad budget,” they made wise use of Bay Area salvage yards, a local Habitat for Humanity sale and the Internet.
Eight-foot windows that showcase their view are salvaged patio doors. “(James Theimer) designed the house around the glass we found,” Bruce says. Piano hinges at the bottom create hopper windows, which open from the top – a benefit in a canyon where wind gusts can get pretty impressive. “The wind comes up and over instead of blasting us,” Doni explains.
Beams suspended from the kitchen ceiling are 6-by-6s left over from framing. “The ceiling was too high, so the beams bring it down to a human scale,” Bruce says.
The walls of the enclosed patio are made from planks of reclaimed redwood water tanks from Inwood. “They were in the middle of poison oak with skunks living in them,” Doni says. Josh milled them, and the result is a flawless, knotless, tongue-and-groove wall without a single visible nail. Kitchen cabinets hail from old-growth wood harvested from a huge tree that fell over in Vancouver, B.C., where Doni lived until she was 5.
The cabinet in the utility room comes from a cedar tree cut down on Butte Street near Doni’s childhood home. “I probably climbed that tree, which makes it kind of cool,” she says. And a china cabinet from the Greenbergs’ previous home, where they were married and celebrated many a milestone, was altered and duplicated to flank the back door.
Their one splurge was actually inadvertent. They didn’t realize that they’d need to use porcelain to tile their 1,250-square-foot porch so it wouldn’t crack in freezing temperatures. “The porch is the most expensive room in the house,” Bruce says.
Twenty-four solar panels power a 2,500-watt system that provides about half their energy. Their utility bill is about $100 a month, mostly because of energy-hogging power tools, says Bruce, a lifelong artist whose preferred medium is wood.
The 1,600-square-foot shop is Bruce’s hideaway, while Doni channels her creativity in her “sky’s the limit” kitchen. “It’s the center of the universe, as it should be,” Doni says.
The kitchen floor is cork (like at the Library of Congress), which is easier on your back when you’re cooking for long periods of time, Doni says. Pull-out pantry compartments and drawers hold pots, pans and dishes. A wood-topped sliding drawer, right near the oven, is a perfect landing spot for a fresh-from-the-oven tray of bread. The dishwasher is a couple of feet off the ground for easier loading.
A wheeled, wooden cart (son Joe’s first wood project) is ideal for rolling out pasta and dough, and it has its own “garage” under the octagonal island, which offers plenty of workspace for students who take her cooking classes.
Her cooktop also sits on the island, which resides in the center of the kitchen. “I never wanted to cook with my back to people again,” Doni says.
But even the kitchen is loaded with smart buys. They bought their nearly new Viking double commercial convection oven for about one-quarter the original price from a woman who hated the noise from its fan. They got their Viking warming oven, valued at $1,200, in San Francisco for $199.
The kitchen is just steps away from the office area, where Doni and Bruce operate “Food for Thought,” a grassroots community Web site (www.donigreenberg.com) that includes news, features, food stories, forums and an array of guest columns. Bruce is the webmaster while Doni, an award-winning journalist, manages the content. The site has had more than two million hits since it was launched last fall.
Meanwhile, Bruce is working on an outdoor kitchen, with a fire pit, wood-fired bread oven, smoker, sink and work area. Guests will enter the area through an iron gate that Doni welded during a Shasta College class. “She’s Rosie the Riveter,” Bruce says.
And the story continues.