My favorite backyard memories begin when, shortly after first grade year, my parents decided to build a teepee. It was made of thick cotton canvas on an electric sewing machine. Dad painted Native American designs on it, waterproofed it, and we moved into it in late August.
Builder: Edwards Smith Contruction
A family friend let us live on some land he owned in the mountains outside Potlatch, Idaho, and we stayed in the winter—Mom, Dad, and five children. My Indian name was Little Bear. It was hard to get me out of my warm hibernation in the mornings, but I don’t remember ever being cold. Mom’s name was Hummingbird.
Dad carried logs home on his shoulders for fire wood, and once he carried a deer. Jeremy and I dug tunnels in the high cliffy bank of the stream and drove our trucks through them. Corey taught Brandi and me how to tease the range cattle until they’d chase us through the trees, and he taught us to climb those trees to get away. We went to school most days–when we didn’t miss the bus. It was a long walk to the bus stop, and sometimes we missed on purpose. I always wished I could stay home. Marci was a baby then, and learned to crawl wearing a cast on her leg. I never realized what Mom did there, though I know now and wonder how she made it.
We brought a stray cat with us, and our friends gave us two puppies when we moved onto their land. They were all given Indian names Dad had learned from the Rosebud Sioux woman who had been our neighbor in Provo. Heyokah, for the cat, meant little clown. Sapah, Black, for the male puppy, and, Namakikah, for the female. I don’t recall what her name meant. She was blind and mostly deaf, and we didn’t have her long.
At night we heard, and felt, elk pass through camp; the earth shook with their weight. We listened to Sapah bark at the coyotes that came too close, and at the bear that stripped the tree just up the hill. Sometimes he would chase Heyokah for fun, and the cat would run up the outside of the teepee, his feet slapping loudly against the canvas. When it rained, Heyokah came in, and the rain slapped the canvas in his place. Once he flicked his tail into the cook fire and Mom put him out with a large bowl of dish water.
Sapah’s dinner was always dog food. Heyokah caught his own— snakes, chipmunks, mice. He was the only one who stayed when we left. Hayokah, and the teepee. When Dad finally went back, the teepee had been burned to the ground.
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I went back there once with my wife, younger brother, younger sisters and Mom. Jeremy and I were the only ones to get out. We climbed through the barbed wire and ran, laughing, down through the tall grass, passed the old, grey, weathered barn. Passed the level ground where the teepee once stood, and on. On to the high cliffy bank of the stream where he and I had spent so many days. In my mind, Heyokah was still there, watching us from the trees, and waiting for us to come home.
If you’re anything like Adam Olinger – of Olinger Marine, a true backyard retreat has got to have water, and it’s got to have fire. As the sky releases it’s hold on the sun, both fire and water are reflected in the glass that stretches the width of the house. The spacious stonework patio and outdoor kitchen glow with the soft orange illumination of both fire, and artificial light. The flames of gas torches and fire pits dance with the movement of the evening air coming off the water. The grass is dark and thick, though its color seems a brighter green. All colors seem brighter tonight, as if the fire, as if the atmosphere, has power to make things more alive, more raw, more as they were meant to be seen.
Adam reaches into the brick oven with a long-handled peel, laughing at a comment aimed his direction. A wisp of smoke escapes the open door, carrying with it the scent of wood-fired pizza. It seems to touch everyone’s senses, drawing them in for another slice. He makes his way back to where his wife, Coral, and some friends have topped another crust to slide into the oven. Music, laughter, and conversation fill the air, complemented by a backdrop of trickling poolside fountains, crackling fires, and the occasional cry of some lone waterfowl in low flight. Their oldest son calls down from the deck above, asking if the pool’s been heated. He and some friends would like to swim. An adult friend teases him about his hair, but, like his father, he takes it with a smile.
The pool glows bright blue in the evening shadow, a stark contrast to the deeper shadows beyond its light. The pool’s bottom resembles large boulder, as if it were some crater lake high in the mountains.
A combination of saw-cut concrete and green grass create a walkway that skirts the pool. The gentle lines of flowing landscaping are nestled beyond that. At the far end of the pool hangs a collection of paddleboards, and off to the side, rests a bubbling hot tub, its light changing through a multitude of brilliant colors.
Chairs and umbrellas sit along the top of the beach, promises of warmer days to come. Another fire snaps and sputters in a large stone pit on the sand. Water laps against the shore, the whispered traces of a passing vessel.
It is comfortable here. Even friends feel like family. One guest explains, “I’ve known Adam a very long time. He’s like a son, a brother, and a friend. We’re family,” he says, “and he’s loyal. He loves his family.” In fact, that’s one reason they moved to the area. Adam and Coral wanted to raise their boys in a better environment, the kind of environment you find in North Idaho—it’s tough to argue with that logic.
When family gatherings and guest parties became too big for the house, it was time to build a guest house. This guest house and backyard were not designed for outdoor recreation. This backyard retreat was designed specifically for large gatherings.
The huge stonework patio takes up the entirety of the yard. There is plenty of space for multiple tables and chairs, a fire pit, and even a gazebo for guests to enjoy. With Lake Coeur d’Alene nearly washing against the patio foundation, guests are practically on the water. When it comes to entertaining large parties, charity and fund-raising events, with the spacious great room of the guest house and the enormous patio, this location has hosted hundreds of guests at once. Imagine the family reunions that could take place in such a location. And if it’s recreation you’re looking for, although you’ll find no swimming pool here, there is a rather nice beach close by.
Feature Photo and outdoor fire pit by Steve Simisky
Builder: Edwards Smith Contruction
By Toby Reynolds
As Featured In: Summer/Fall 2014
