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This Beautiful 100-Year-Old Adobe Still Lives Up to Its Nickname—God’s Acre

Inside a soulful Pueblo Revival hideaway that blends history, heirlooms and timeless desert beauty.

By Lauren Tyda | Photography by Laura Moss

Tucked behind a discreet gate in the heart of Phoenix, there’s a place where saguaros tower like sentinels, mourning doves scatter at dawn, and summer storms wash across thick adobe walls much as they did a century ago. Rancho Arroyo is one of the last of its kind—a 1920s Pueblo Revival home that stands as both relic and refuge, reminding its stewards what it means to live with the desert, not just in it.

Today, that steward is Scott Burdick—an interior design firm managing partner, preservationist by passion and someone who has spent much of his life surrounded by adobe walls and desert arroyos. “I grew up in a 1930s adobe in Paradise Valley,” he says. “Our family owned it for 40 years. I prefer older homes. They have more soul.”  

He’s right—Rancho Arroyo has soul to spare. The house’s story stretches back to the early 20th century, when Arizona was still a young state. According to historic architect John Douglas, who has shepherded multiple restorations on the property since the 1990s, the original owners sited the house to face Lincoln Drive. “Historically, the east facade is the front of the house,” Douglas explains. “When we added on, we made sure you wouldn’t see any of the additions standing there. It would still look like it did in 1926.”

The Pueblo Revival style, Douglas says, is more than an architectural nod to the Southwest. “You’re getting a glimpse into how people lived in the desert 100 years ago—the natives and the people coming out from the East,” he says. “There are little adobes peppered throughout Phoenix. You just have to keep your eyes out for them.”

Scott did. And when he stepped through Rancho Arroyo’s gate for the first time, he knew exactly what he was taking on—and what not to change. When he bought the property, the heavy brown beams and blue-green ceilings made the interiors feel dark and weighty. Scott’s solution: Lighten, but don’t erase.

“The beams are original. They extend all the way outside,” he says. “When I moved in, you couldn’t put anything contemporary in a space that had such a heavy ceiling, so I painted the beams and walls white. My painter hated it—but it needed to be done. It lets the furnishings and the art shine.”

That balancing act—respecting history while adding his own layer—defines Scott’s approach. “I think the architecture here is so strong, so specific, that you don’t need to bring that Southwest style into the interiors,” he says. “Using midcentury, extreme contemporary—‘the mix’— in the decor makes everything more interesting, in my opinion.”

The connection between inside and out is what makes Rancho Arroyo feel alive. A manmade stream cuts through the property. Native palo blanco trees drop seeds for the flocks of mourning doves that herd and shuffle. “They shake the branches to make the beans fall off, then dive down to eat them,” Scott says. “When I walk through, they all scatter, and you can hear their wings whistling as they fly away. It’s magic—and so Arizona.”

Nature is part of the architecture, too. “It’s a very active wash, or arroyo,” Douglas explains. “That’s why it’s called Rancho Arroyo. When it rains, it comes right down Piestewa Peak.”

For Scott, storms are part of the charm. “When it rains, you really feel it,” he says. “The storms roll through, and the rain falls off the roof in buckets. The plaster-covered adobe exterior walls darken and create beautiful shapes and colors. The Solari bells ring to warn you it’s time to get inside. You hear it. You feel it. But you also feel very safe. The home is not going to blow over in the wind.”

Each owner has shaped the house and its landscape. Hubert Earle, a former director of Desert Botanical Garden, once filled the grounds with rare specimens brought back from Mexico—fantastical boojum trees, unusual cacti and exotic desert flora that turned the property into a private desert laboratory. “The former director brought all kinds of mature, exotic specimens,” Douglas says. “There were even vintage signs from the Botanical Garden, like ‘Watch your children around the cactus.’”

Later, Virginia Cave, the previous owner, restored the diminished landscape and enlisted Douglas and Phoenix Home & Garden Masters of the Southwest award-winning builder Greg Hunt to modernize the structure without erasing its spirit. Their work included real adobe additions built in a way that any trained eye could distinguish them from the 1926 originals—a
preservation detail that matters deeply to Douglas. “The historic building is real adobe, but it has the typical stucco on it,” he says. “The new bedroom additions are exposed, stacked adobe bricks. From a historic architect’s perspective, you want to be able to tell what was original and what was added.”

Today, Scott safeguards the home’s legacy with equal care. Many objects inside carry history, as well. “Everything has a story and significance to me,” he says.

Some pieces travel from home to home with him—such as his trademark llama, a ceramic piece from the late 1960s. “I never let anybody else touch it,” he laughs. “I strap it into my front seat, and it goes to my next spot with me.”

Despite its age, Rancho Arroyo isn’t stuck in the past. It evolves with every season and every storm. “This is an emotional, soulful place. It’s different throughout the day and as the seasons move through the landscape,” Scott says. “I tend to like it best in the hotter months, when the trees are leafed out and the storms roll through. You can set your calendar based on what’s blooming—first the brittlebush, then the paloverdes, then the prickly pears, followed by the ironwoods and saguaros.”

When friends come to visit, surprise is what he hopes they feel first. “Your bird game is strong around here,” one guest remarked after watching falcons hunt by the stream and hearing an unseen owl hoot through the night.

Under it all runs a single theme: persistence. “The home sparks enough emotion in others and is just simple enough to make it a doable project, something you want to take on and preserve for future generations,” Scott says. “It seems to persevere.”

In the end, Rancho Arroyo is more than a historic home. It’s a living testament to how the desert can shape—and be shaped by—human hands, each generation leaving a mark without erasing what came before. It’s a reminder, in Scott’s words, that “sometimes, you have to adapt to the house, instead of forcing the house to adapt to you.”

For him, it’s not a final destination but an ongoing conversation. “There are endless projects and ways to live on the property based on my lifestyle,” he says. “I’m going to let that evolve naturally and not think too hard about it.”

The sentinel saguaros continue to stand watch, the stream trickles on, the wildlife come and go—and Rancho Arroyo keeps its secrets, waiting for the next storm.

The front of Rancho Arroyo reveals its original 1920s Pueblo Revival charm—thick adobe walls, exposed vigas and shaded porches that have sheltered generations from the desert sun.
Totem pole cacti and a towering saguaro cut through a canopy of branches. “It is the most spectacular ironwood tree, with a beautiful saguaro that has an owl’s nest nestled in it,” says owner Scott Burdick. “The owl hoots starting at about 2 a.m., and it will go for about three to four hours. It’s the most soothing sound.”
“The inside lives so nicely with the exterior, and neither one is as good without the other.”

—Scott Burdick, homeowner

The great room is a soulful backdrop for Scott’s eclectic mix of heirlooms, contemporary art and vintage finds. Painting the once-dark beams and walls white gave the historic room a fresh, airy spirit while letting its architectural bones shine. Custom shutters with cross-cutouts cast a beautiful light show as shadows dance across surfaces throughout the day. “In the morning, when I’m having my coffee, the sun will come up and project crosses throughout the dining room,” he says.
Among Scott's treasures are antique antlers, enclosed in an unfinished frame found in London. “The white pieces are expanders where the frame makers stretched the size but never completed it,” he says. “I thought it looked cool.” Beneath it sits a weathervane that once presided over the fireplace in his childhood adobe home. A painting of cottonwoods titled “My Life Will Be Good” was a gift from the family of the late Arizona artist William Tull. “Bill was an unbelievably important influence on my aesthetic. I played tennis with him and went to high school with his daughters. The artwork was created in 1965, my birth year.”
The property’s landscape echoes natural desert wash with native plantings, including palo brea and several different species of cactus. “The previous owner’s goal was to have one of every plant native to Arizona on the property,” Scott notes. “I don’t think she fully got there, but she came close.”
The walkable garden includes a fountain-fed, circulating stream that runs from the front gate to the back of the property. “All the wildlife flocks there,” Scott says. “The stream propagates flowers and grasses on its own, so I never have to plant anything. It may be expensive to run in the summer, but it’s worth it to hear the trickling water and to be able to see all the blooms and butterflies.”
In the dining room, original adobe walls anchor a layered mix of heirlooms and contemporary pieces. Among them is Scott’s signature piece, a ceramic llama by Dane Burr. “I like rustic, fine, Spanish colonial or European antiques,” he says.
The original owner, former Desert Botanical Garden director Hubert Earle, built a garden pergola as a wedding gift to his wife, Lucille. The roof is made of ocotillo skeletons.
“When it rains, the plaster-covered adobe walls darken and create beautiful shapes and colors,” Scott says. “It’s magical.”
In the primary bathroom, Scott layered found objects—a carved African sculpture; a stacked Japanese Tansu chest; stick-like art by local artisan Bill Seeker; an antique church sign; and a quirky portrait he now calls “My Uncle John.” He discovered the painting at an estate sale in North Phoenix. “When I pulled it out, a relative of the person who’d passed away said, ‘Oh, that’s my Uncle John.’ She told me I could have him for free—if I promised never to sell him.”
A 19th-century Serbian oil painting holds court in the primary bedroom—a piece that Anne Gale, one of the founders of Scott’s design firm, adored. “She was obsessed with it,” Scott says. “When she passed away last year, I bought it from her family as a way to remember her. I love how, as the light shifts during the day, the mother’s dress glows a brilliant, vivid blue.” A custom tufted bed floats in the center of the room, opening up wall space to incorporate an antique bookcase Scott inherited from his mom.
The hallway leading to the primary bedroom suite, added on by the previous owner, features an eclectic mix, from an English hunting dog painting to a bronze plaque of a dachshund on which Scott hangs his bolo ties. Jeans, mounted like art on the wall, reflect his belief that everyday objects—when thoughtfully displayed—can tell a story and add unexpected character to a historic home. “I also hate fishing for my pants,” he laughs.
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