The Story Behind Poofy’s Paradise: How We Found Our Little Mountain Haven
It was fall of 2015 when we officially became the owners of what’s now known as Poofy’s Paradise. But the love story started a few years earlier.
Almost 15 years ago, we were headed to a friend’s wedding near Wenatchee and needed a place to stay for the night. Nothing close by felt quite right—until we stumbled across a sweet little house in Plain, Washington. We’d never heard of it. But the moment we drove into the Plain Valley, we were smitten. Towering trees, winding roads, fresh air—it felt like a hidden gem.
Back home in Ballard, we were already lucky to live close to the water, but we dreamed of a place in the mountains. Something simple, somewhere our family of four (plus doggo!) could escape to.
A couple of years later, we got serious about looking. We worked with a real estate agent, even made an offer on a house near Leavenworth—but it was a stretch, and the owners held firm on price. That “no” turned out to be the best thing that could’ve happened.
When we were ready to try again, we called the same agent—and this time, Poofy’s was the very last place we looked at. It was a bank foreclosure, and before we even stepped inside, we knew. The setting, the quiet, the trees—it had us at hello.
The house didn’t need major renovations. We tidied up the woodwork in the living room, gave the main floor bathroom a much-needed refresh, and moved in. Over the years, we’ve added:
-
A large covered outdoor patio space
-
An electric barrel sauna (hello, après-snowboard steam!)
-
A few cozy upgrades to make the space feel like home
As an avid snowboarding family, we’ve made countless memories at nearby Stevens Pass. And our sweet pup adored the freedom of roaming the property off-leash.
One of our favorite stories? Our very first Christmas at Poofy’s, we asked our then-10-year-old daughter to head outside and see if she could find a tree we could use. She came running back, wide-eyed and thrilled:
“Mama, Papa—I found a whole Christmas tree farm!”
Turns out, the property had once tried to be a small Christmas tree farm. So now, each year, we “thin the forest” and cut a fresh tree to decorate the house. I’m partial to the Charlie Brown trees—a little quirky, a little sparse, but just right.
Oh—and the name? That’s the most asked question we get.
Our daughter, who was 10 at the time, named the house after one of our beloved pet chickens: Poofy, an Appenzeller with a very fancy hairdo. 🐔 Mystery solved.
