Living Pono
Nature meets design in this ecofriendly Ha‘ikū home.
story by Lara McGlashan
photography by Ryan Siphers
I pull off the busy Hāna Highway and onto an inconspicuous residential street in Ha‘ikū. As I drive down the gentle slope, the traffic noise behind me fades away and is replaced by birdsong and breezes. I turn onto a small dirt road and find Ponohouse almost at the end.
In Hawaiian, the word pono has no direct English translation. In some cases, it’s a rather abstract concept – a way of looking at life that calls for people to live in a state of harmony with the ‘āina (land), the natural world and those around you. In another context, to make things pono means to set things right by being thankful, taking responsibility and being kind.
Either way, it’s a fitting name for the residence. When they began the remodel in 2020, the homeowners did so with sustainability and longevity in mind while also aiming to highlight the home’s unique design and incredible location on the planet.
As I park, I immediately notice the roof. Brilliant azure tiles ripple downward in a Balinese-style pattern, culminating in a wavelike lip at the gutter. I walk through the gate and into an open courtyard covered in bright white tile. The tile continues through an airy great room and back outside where it terminates in a curved patio edge, a sharp contrast dividing land and sky.
One homeowner and her friend, who helped imagine the remodel, meet me in the courtyard. I remark on the beauty of the roof and the homeowner lights up.
“It was the first thing I loved about the house when we bought it in 1999,” she says. “It’s beautiful, but also functional: the tiles help shed the heat on hot days and insulate the home on chillier ones.”
“You’ll notice the roof overhangs are supported by these ‘ōhi‘a posts,” says the friend, pointing to a colonnade of stout tree-trunk pillars that march around the perimeter of the courtyard. “They repeat throughout the house, but were lost in the original design. The colors and textures were all over the place, which broke up the rooms and made everything very busy.”
The homeowners rethought the entire flow of the home, taking the dark, fractured aesthetic and making it more cohesive and contemporary. Taupe Saltillo tile and buckling bamboo floors were replaced with Italian tile throughout. Rust-colored walls, wooden doors and dark trim were painted bright white, and the exterior was repainted to blend better with the natural landscape.
The courtyard flows into a large, open living space with a vaulted ceiling held aloft by another series of ‘ōhi‘a posts. Now, surrounded by clean, snowy walls and floors, the posts do indeed stand out.
“We have no air-conditioning,” says the homeowner. “The open design of the house allows the trade winds to blow through and keep us cool year-round.”
To the right is the kitchen, an open, functional space with rich wooden cabinetry and a textured tile backsplash, its pattern simultaneously reminiscent of flowers and snowflakes.
“We were determined to reuse rather than replace whenever possible,” says the homeowner. “We removed the cabinets above the stove to improve the flow of the room and reinstalled them in the laundry room rather than discarding them. I splurged on a few things, though – new appliances and fun design elements such as the light fixtures.”
I admire the gold-toned fixture above the dining table, a lighted collection of Pick-Up Sticks, one stacked upon the next. In the kitchen, three hand-blown glass pendants bathe the workspace with light.
We make our way to the back patio, which is surrounded by newly installed artificial grass; a nifty putting green is tucked in along the far side of the home.
“The real grass was sharp and prickly and no one wanted to walk outside barefoot,” says the homeowner. “We replaced it with synthetic grass that does not require watering or mowing, and which feels great on bare feet. A win-win!”
I walk to the edge of the patio and peek down the steep hill. Below are layers of solar panels that power the home, heat the water and charge the electric car. “We installed the panels down there to leave our roof unmolested,” the homeowner explains.
I spend a few moments admiring the vista. The land drops off sharply just below the panels, a hillside of tumbling green herbage punctuated by volcanic outcroppings. To the right, a tall mock-orange hedge buffers the trades. To the left, towering trees march downward into a deep gulley. And a mile below – the ocean. We watch as a whale rises, spouts and dives.
“Sometimes at night, when there’s no wind, the whales’ spouts are so loud they sound like elephants chuffing right outside the house! The shape of the land funnels the sound right up the hill,” says the homeowner.
We head inside to the master bedroom where large, sliding-glass doors in two of the walls afford the same unobstructed view as from the patio. This tableau is repeated in the mirrored wall above the double vanity in the master bath. The same flower-flake tile from the kitchen – in a larger format – surrounds a deep soaker tub nestled snugly into a glass-enclosed corner.
We return to the courtyard, and the friend provides insight as to its transformation. “There was a sunken fountain right in the middle of this space which broke it up, so we got rid of it and removed a lot of the landscaping,” she says.
“You have to know your environment,” adds the homeowner. “The bromeliads around the border were beautiful, but they are succulents and are prized for retaining water. Here, where it’s wet and tropical, they were simply mosquito-makers.”
The unwanted foliage was replaced with native plants that require less water, as well as ground cover like wild oregano, which, according to the homeowner, has the added benefit of being disliked by pesky coqui frogs. In front and to the right is a large landscaped section of the four-acre property with several mature trees bearing coconuts, bananas, star fruit, limes and avocados. Their leaves rustle and sway above an herb garden filled with both medicinal and culinary plants.
As we enter a guest room on the right, I suddenly realize that the home is, in fact, a clever series of little pods connected by open, outdoor spaces – the epitome of tropical living. This well-windowed room is surrounded by foliage, and features a plush bed and private bath. A second door on the far side leads to a charming covered bridge arching over a lap pool, at the far end of which is a hot tub.
Across the bridge is another living pod: above, a guest room and bath with a lofted ceiling and plenty of windows; below, a caretaker’s apartment complete with bedroom, kitchen and bath.
As we walk toward the front gate, the homeowner shares a tale of furnishing woe. “When we started the remodel, we ordered a lot of new furniture,” she says. “That was almost two years ago and as you can see, much of it is still not here!”
“I hope you enjoyed our home,” says the homeowner as we say our goodbyes. “With a little more effort, we believe we can make our house – and our lifestyle – carbon-negative.”
With a little more effort, so can we all.
