When we built Third Street Cottages, we encouraged the new residents to name their homes. And they did—with names like Salmonberry, Pears & Cherries, and Hilltop. Each one carries a personal story. Then I hand-painted a sign for each of them.

The idea came from the place where I grew up in Minnesota. When my family settled there in the 1890s, the streets had names, but the houses didn’t have numbers. Instead, homes were known by names that reflected their character, their setting, or the humor of their inhabitants: The Bungalow, Edgewood, Lumbago. That last one was the name of the tiny cottage behind our house, overlooking a creek. “Lumbago” is a Victorian-era word for an aching back—or by playful interpretation, “a creek in the back.”

Giving a house a name isn’t just quaint—it’s personal and endearing. In our time, most houses are more commodity than character, seen as shelter or investment, with value measured in resale. But a house with a name is more likely to be something more: a true home.