The Wonderful World of Rangerville: Alger man transforms backyard into 9-acre artwork
No Q&A content found. At 76 years old, Ranger Kidwell-Ross is a case study in duality — and eccentricity. Professionally, the Alger resident is a respected leader in the power-sweeping industry. Yet outside work, he’s a multimedia artist, multi-talented percussionist, occasional clown (with an alter ego named Mr. Turquoise) and curator of perhaps the sparkliest wardrobe west of the Cascades. “He loves to paint and sparkle, and that sparkle is not just on the outside, but on the inside as well,” said Rita Kraft, a longtime friend. “When Ranger comes to visit, I find sparkles throughout my house, and that makes me smile.” If Kidwell-Ross’ fashion sense is unexpected, his off-grid property in Alger — nicknamed Rangerville — is comparable to a homestead designed by the Mad Hatter. Dispersed among mossy enclaves and forested paths, every dwelling on the 9-acre property feels enchanted. Landlocked fishing boats double as sleeping quarters, and outdoor kitchens are stocked with sourdough starter, strong coffee and adult beverages. A life-sized dollhouse neighbors a fairytale-esque pink gnome home, fit for woodland royalty. In Kidwell-Ross’ world, household objects and fallen trees become wacky works of art. That’s not to mention the sculptures, constructed from children’s toys and referred to by nicknames like “Funzilla.” “I call it a 9-acre art project,” Kidwell-Ross said of his home. “I love doing art, and I love people who enjoy the art.” This quirkiness might seem incompatible with a buttoned-up day job in the street sweeping industry. Yet over his decades-long career, Kidwell-Ross founded multiple publications, counseled public officials, and became the executive director of the World Sweeping Association. Ask the right questions, and he’ll speak about novelty “art cars” and roadway microplastics with similar fervency. For most of his life, Kidwell-Ross didn’t bother to bridge the gulf between work and play. “They don’t know about this life,” Kidwell-Ross said of his colleagues. “Now that I’m retiring, I don’t care what anybody knows. It just doesn’t matter.” Yet this duality isn’t as stark as it seems. Just as Kidwell-Ross chose a career in power sweeping for environmental reasons, he makes art to spread cheer among those who need it most. At Rangerville, life is too short to be serious — and joy, even when fleeting, is its own form of altruism. “I think he is a true believer in karma,” added Lola Hudson, Kidwell-Ross’ friend since 1972. “So, he has spread lots of good karma in his life.” The origins of Rangerville Life in rural Alger isn’t a far cry from Kidwell-Ross’ childhood in Grays Harbor, where he attended a one-room schoolhouse. His mother was creative in her own right, often tasking Kidwell-Ross with delivering goodies to neighbors along their 2-mile, dead-end street. “We had 21 people that lived on that road, all on the same phone line,” Kidwell-Ross recalled. “Two of them were old ladies that were shut-ins, and so they would be on every phone call whenever it rang.” But in adulthood, Kidwell-Ross’ world began to expand. He earned a master’s degree in economics; married a NASA materials engineer; moved to Huntsville, Alabama; and started a consulting business (which eventually led him to the street-sweeping industry). Towards the end of the century, however, Kidwell-Ross’ wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. “I’d always heard that people got better when they went to the ocean, and we have oceans here,” he said. “We don’t have much in Alabama.” Back in Washington, a woman told Kidwell-Ross about 2.5 acres for sale in Alger. He soon learned the site was once home to a hippie commune, and a patchwork of off-grid neighbors — including former commune members — still lived nearby in the surrounding woodlands. Kidwell-Ross purchased the property for just $40,000, then spent a year sprucing up its dilapidated house into a home. His newfound community welcomed the couple into their fold, lending a hand with landscaping and fencing. Once in remission, Kidwell-Ross’ wife had trouble finding her place in rural Washington, and the pair separated. Yet Kidwell-Ross thrived: He built an international career, began drumming with local bands and threw massive parties in his Wonderland-esque backyard. Even today, Kidwell-Ross maintains a listserv with more than 150 individuals associated with his woodland neighborhood. “People can live in a cul-de-sac and not know each other at all,” Kidwell-Ross said. In the woods around Rangerville, however, “We’re a real community.” Welcome to Rangerville When Kidwell-Ross first moved to Alger, Rangerville looked like any other rural property. Today’s version began taking shape when he decided to build a guesthouse and was taken aback by the cost of traditional structures. He found a cheaper alternative: a 36-foot-long fishing boat, circa 1957. “When he first started, it was kind of like: You’re going to put a boat in the ground?!” Hudson exclaimed. “Now, nothing he does is surprising anymore.” Kidwell-Ross equipped the so-called “USS Enrangered Species” with a septic line, power, water and a waterbed in its V-berth for ambiance. Next came a stage, then a covered outdoor kitchen — ”and it just kind of went from there,” Kidwell-Ross explained. In the 2010s, Kidwell-Ross seized the opportunity to purchase 6 additional acres behind his home. He installed a second boat, additional sleeping accommodations and the outdoor “Om Kitchen,” where he whips up sourdough waffles and talks philosophy with friends and guests. “We try to have good conversations,” Kidwell-Ross said. “We try to have reality conversations and quasi-reality and esoteric and quasi-religious without a denomination.” Other novelties at Rangerville include the “Toynota,” a working pickup truck decked out with 700-plus trinkets and toys: CDs, plastic figurines, instruments and even a bubble machine. Fallen trees are converted into living sculptures, and bowling balls are painted with glow-in-the-dark “faces of angels.” In 2015, Kidwell-Ross even built a fairytale dome hut from cob (a natural building material) for the TV show “Building off the Grid: Mudmen.” “Everywhere you look at Rangerville is art,” Kraft said. “Not only art made by Ranger, but he brings in so many people and gives them the opportunity to create something that’ll add to his place. Part of their personality is left behind there.” ‘The best way to predict the future is to invent it’ Rangerville might be Kidwell-Ross’ Neverland, but he didn’t build it to evade adulthood. Having traveled to more than 20 countries for work, he’s all too aware of the world’s disparities. Life in the woods allows him to “be silent inside” and focus on what truly matters — and make art from Pez dispensers while he’s at it. Kidwell-Ross built his “art car,” the Toynota, in 2009 to create levity amid a worsening economic recession. The vehicle came in handy again during the pandemic when masks were ubiquitous. Yet within their vehicles, Kidwell-Ross and fellow drivers would “all be grinning like fools at each other,” he said. Hudson once joined Kidwell-Ross on a ride in the Toynota, yet felt uncomfortable with the attention it garnered. “I said: ‘I don’t think I could do this,’” she recalled. “And he just said: ‘If I can put a smile on somebody’s face during the day, I’ve done something worthwhile.’” Kidwell-Ross views his career through a similar lens. Power sweeping, he believes, has “the possibility of helping the world, not just making money.” He’s long touted the technology as an affordable “first line of defense” against roadway toxins like phosphorus and nitrogen — many of which end up polluting waterways. “He worked with manufacturers to develop sweepers that could clean up better,” Hudson said. “He was an expert at two or three different trials that had to do with cleaning up the environment.” It’s hard to be friends with Kidwell-Ross and not come away with zany anecdotes, like the time he delighted dive-bar patrons with magic tricks, or drove the Toynota to play zydeco music at Kraft’s wedding. But Kidwell-Ross isn’t exclusively silly — especially when supporting loved ones like Kraft, whom he helped navigate a cancer diagnosis. “He has taken in, taken care of, given to so many people over the years; people who were in need of a place to live, of comfort, of caring,” Kraft added. Kidwell-Ross doesn’t see generosity as a one-way street. Over the years, he’s passed out more than 2,000 “business cards” prompting recipients to do an anonymous good deed — if only because “the best way to predict the future is to invent it.” “How can we be peaceful among each other? How can we do the right thing; how can we help the other person wherever we can?” Kidwell-Ross mused. “That’s the most important aspect of life, I think.” Cocoa Laney was CDN’s lifestyle editor from December 2023 to September 2026.