Suburban Habitats

When we first moved to our house, I wasn't super in love with it.  We bought this particular house for one reason only- the tall ceilings in the living room, so our Christmas tree would fit.  Yep, really.  Have you ever watched House Hunters on HGTV?  Our episode went like this- open front door, walk in, look up at the ceiling height and say "the tree won't fit", then leave.  Plus J wanted a basement, and although most homes in this area have basements, this one was the largest.  We bought right before the market crashed, although just barely.  The developer of our subdivision was going under, ours was the last house they built before they fell off the map, and they were anxious to unload it.  We were able to negotiate a few free upgrades- like granite countertops in the kitchen and stacked stone for the fireplace- and still got the house for a good price for 2008.  Of course now the house is worth $70,000 less than what we paid for it, yet we bought it for $70,000 less than its original asking price when it was first built.  Our subdivision ended up with 50 empty lots- two directly across the street from us- when the builder filed for bankruptcy.

Inside the house we've made only minor updates- ceiling fans and light fixtures- so for the most part the house is the same as when we bought it brand new. Everything is white and pale- white walls, ceilings, molding, light beige carpets.  Not my favorite.  I've referred to our house as a giant ice cave.  For a long time, we both regretted buying this house, J because of the loss in value, me because it can be very isolating here.  In hindsight, I would have given up the Christmas tree and purchased an older home with warm colors and charming character, in an established neighborhood not so far out in the country.  Just like our 20+ year old home we sold when we moved here.

But outside it's a different story.  Because we are in the country, we all have septic tanks instead of city sewer services.  And apparently there is some sort of minimum requirement here for lot sizes to accommodate septic tanks.  Hence all the lots in our neighborhood are almost 2 acres.  We are fortunate to be on a quiet cul-de-sac towards the back of the subdivision.  And beyond our subdivision there is nothing and more nothing as far as the eye can see.  The neighbor behind us has 8 acres and we have a mini-forest between us- and I can't see their home at all.  The space between houses here is priceless, and it's the one thing I wouldn't change. Although we have houses on either side of us, one house is way up the hill and the other, way down.  And we are busy planting more trees as buffers on both sides.  I don't live in the mountains, but sitting on my back deck and looking out across the endless miles of trees and hills, you would think we were up in the Blue Ridges.  When we first moved here, I felt as though this isolated me even more, because this is not the type of subdivision where you can get to know your neighbors- even if we are out working in our yards at the same time, we are so far apart you can barely hear each other shout hello.

We've met our neighbors at least once or twice, but have nothing in common with any of them.  The family up the hill consists of a very elderly couple who live with their grown son and his boyfriend.  The family down the hill are renters with older teenage children who are out of school but apparently don't work or have plans to move out any time soon.  Down the road are mostly younger couples with small children.  Most of the wives on my street don't work and are all at home during the day, but they all have kids too.  I see their garage doors open and cars in the driveways, but I never actually see any of them out in their yards.  So I assume they are busy in the house all day with laundry and vacuuming and cutting coupons and defrosting chicken for dinner- just like I am now.  I tried once to socialize with them, one night at their large monthly gathering where they drank a lot of wine, griped about husbands and schools and gossiped about people they all knew, and where they played Bunco which I thought was the most inane pastime I've ever seen.  That was my one and only get together with the neighborhood wives.  I couldn't wait to escape back over to my own sanctuary.

As much as I love going into the Big City on the weekends, I know I'm not cut out to live there on an every day basis.  I would like to think of myself as being hip and chic enough for the urban lifestyle of walking to the coffee house or Trader Joe's, or taking the train to the art museum, and I love to do those things on a Saturday- after we make the long 30 minute interstate drive to get to the city in the first place.  But the truth is on most days I would rather soak up the peace and fresh air of the woods behind my house, listen to the bird song, watch the squirrels and rabbits running around, enjoy the deer grazing along my property line, and be thankful for it.

MISS GEE

(The evening view from my back deck.)