A wall of windows framed the East Twin River out back, at the far end of the grassy lawn, and on some days, you can spot Sandhill cranes from the home’s dock. And if it was warmer during our spring visit, we might have spent more time on the private patio, which had banquettes and an outdoor fireplace. As our tour guide, Jenny Leigh, said just before we checked in, at night this place is lit up from the back like a Chinese lantern, due to the staggered height and outdoor lighting.
There’s an eye on cultivating mindfulness here—there’s no TV, for one—and in the listing, the Airbnb hosts suggested watching the birds. (It’s a very calming activity.) We lounged in the living room for hours reading books we’d brought, also perusing books about Wright lining the built-in shelving. I felt like a kid in a candy store with shelves of so many colorful books wrapping around me.
Like most Wright-designed homes, the entrance is partially concealed. It’s not facing the street but instead is off to the right when facing the home. Once inside, the architect’s compression-and-release technique is at play, with low ceilings in the entry that expand and spring open in the living room.
To the right of the entry is the aforementioned breakfast nook and the full kitchen. It has all one needs and there is lots of space on the orange countertops and within cabinets. We loved how the Ditmers considered every possible need—right on down to the era’s barware on a dedicated shelf leading to the living room. Our groceries fit comfortably in the full-size fridge.
On the second level are three bedrooms and two baths. A built-in desk in the mezzanine is paired with a vintage typewriter and vintage mint-green Ericofon for a fun touch. Most of Wright’s homes were built as showpieces for the stewards to entertain, and this one is no exception. A sizable patio features plenty of furnishings, whether you want to eat dinner or relax with a book.
The way the light bounces around is incredible, made possible thanks to Wright’s cut-out clerestory windows (low in height and above eye level).
Occasionally we meet other people who have stayed here. There’s a collective sigh as we ponder in silence the communal experience of staying in a true work of art—one that’s famous in architectural circles. But on a more personal level it was, for us, a place where time literally stopped; we reconnected with nature and ourselves.
