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Kenwood _ I-MW


									KENWOOD & I

There’s no place like home,” as the saying goes, yet little did I realize that the small
community of Kenwood sleeping peacefully like Rip Van Winkle would suddenly
awaken to being a famous spot in the heart of the Wine Country. From 1947-1987, I have
either lived here, visited from time to time, moved from and moved back to Kenwood
and Adobe Canyon situated on the sunny side of Hood Mountain.
There have been four generations of my famiy here; three being residents of Adobe
Canyon. My paternal grandmother, May Hout Moor Loeffler, who passed away this
summer at the age of 90, spent part of her girlhood with her uncle and grandmother, the
Roedert family, on Lawndale Road in the early 1900’s. She had related to me her
experience of riding horseback each day to the old Kenwood Schoolhouse, now
remodeled into a real estate office located on Highway 12.
My mother, Boraide Plamondon Moore, never dreamed that when her uncle drove her for
a ride from Santa Rosa in his town car up Adobe Canyon Road in 1925 to look at
property for himself, that she and my dad, Harold Moore, would e purchasing acreage
themselves. I still remember Milo Baker taking us up the hill from his house and coming
to this spot amidst brush and trees and he and my parents saying this would be a suitable
place to build a house. This was in 1946 and after months of clearing, burning brush and
bulldozing the land, there waws a beautiful setting with a view of Sonoma Mountain and
the Valley and seven years later, the final stage of our home was completed. My brother,
Norman, and my sister, Kathleen and I attended Dunbar School and I received my high
school diploma in Santa Rosa in 1936.
I fondly remember following my dad to Milo Baker’s vegetable gardens and helping him
irrigate and especially enjoyed baker’s variety of violets growing along the creek side. I
occasionally visited with the Bakers in their dark, wood-paneled house and had many
chats with Baker’s sister, Ada Hunkins, who lived in her secluded setting below our
property. I also spent many happy hours climbing trees, hanging by my knees near the
top of the tall firs and bellowing like a coyote. My brother and I blazed out trails above
the house and chased each other up and down the hillsides.

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