Pity it was "revisioned" as the 101. At 5 p.m. on a Thursday, the air is bitter with the tang of exhaust. The roar of traffic is constant. But the Campbells are so enchanted by the site, they genuinely seem immune to it. Standing near a line of stately palms, Regula whispers, "Listen to the fronds rustle," just as a truck thunders by.
These rustling palms mark the entrance to a pocket at the northwestern corner of the site, which the Campbells call the "cloister garden." This is a lovely space. Its collection of native oaks, Western Red buds, Japanese maples and sycamores have been set around a koi pond in a stylish play on the earliest church garden themes. Against the northern wall, in a delightful wink to the Eden theme, a fig tree has been slipped in. Under-planting of clivia is burning now. This will lessen as trees grow and cast some meaningful shade. It's not perfect, but it's a kind of paradise, right for the climate, right for the place.