My own home is a new, modern, upscale house built by a national "luxury" home builder in a development of 70 homes. It's carved out of former woods and pastures, with zoning setbacks and community covenants and restrictions (No clotheslines! No swingsets!) It even has a eye-rolling faux royal name: "Regency" (really? and am I then the queen of all I survey? A princess in Sloggers with a Cobrahead scepter?)
The long-time locals, descendants of the old New England farmers, bemoan the new fancy houses with their fake siding, big lawns and sprinkler systems. They tell us they used to snowmobile and hunt deer in the open meadows that are now our yards --- our deer-infested yards.
I feel conflicted. I too bemoan the loss of the old aesthetic. But... I love my home.
I do love my home. I love the view, the open sky and meadow, the opportunity to remake an abandoned pasture into a real garden. All with a modern open floorplan, efficient plumbing and energy saving appliances.
The beautiful decay that I drive by when I am out and about in town is a reminder that it all changes, and it changes all the time. My new, fancy vinyl sided house will also decay some day. I wonder if it will fall down with the same soft whump of deflation that collapsed the old sawmill and the sawyer's home, and let the saplings come in to repopulate where its ancestors had been felled.
And what will happen to my gardens?
|from real estate listing when it was for sale|
My goal, in atonement for the travesty of our new house scraped out of this old field, is to create some beauty around it. Hence the gardens, the 100 trees I have planted so far, both to reforest what the builder tore out, and for my own fulfillment.
|In 2004 this was an open field. Now it's my home and garden.|