Where Have All the Hippies Gone? One Lives Amid His Own Forest

One advantage of living on the same place for more than 40 years is you get to watch the five dozen trees you planted grow to maturity. Now Bob Simpson lives in a veritable forest just feet from the house he rents on Mariposa Street.

“When I moved in here, there was nothing except three trees,” said Simpson, a “starving but happy” artist who creates ceramic, encaustic and sculpture pieces. “Eventually, they succumbed to Oak root fungus, and I planted all these. I counted 63 at one time, but trees come and go.”

Simpson says the house that sits amid all the foliage is claimed to be Robert Allison’s barn, built in 1895 and later transported from his ranch. When Simpson first spied the property in the 1960s, he knew he was destined to live here—he only had to convince the landlord that a hooligan like himself could be trusted.

“I was a long-haired hippie with beads and sandals—you know, the suspicious type,” Simpson said. “I sweet-talked [the landlord] and wrote her sweet letters and even planted a little rose bush over here to prove that I was the one.”

It worked. And now he shares the place with Bart Rodner, his partner of 21 years, and Pookie Anne the cat, among a couple of other felines. He has enough room for a couple of sheds where he keeps material for future creations—a process he says just comes to him.

“[I get my inspiration] all sorts of different ways, but one thing builds on another,” he said. “Once you get going, it’s like a train that takes off.”