Front Porch Editorial

It's still spring but we're settling into our summer rhythm here in the neighborhood.

The ice cream truck rolls round in late afternoon. The mosquito foggers make their rounds at dusk. Kids roam the neighborhood in posses on their bikes arguing over the things that matter to kids. After dinner folks cut their grass, water their gardens, put the finishing touches on home construction projects before the first big summer heat wave hits.

I drink it all in from my front porch swing at The House Where the Black Cat Lives, discreetly hidden behind a hedge of holly and juniper.

That's something I learned from my cats. If you just sit quietly by the window and observe long enough eventually -inevitably - something of interest will come to you. I don't need to look far.

My neighbors are adding a sun room to their house. This fact probably wouldn't be noteworthy if they hadn't already added on so much over the years. The original structure, a 1920s bungalow, now sports a Rapunzel's tower. And an imposing three-story fortress. And a gazebo. And a fountain. And an assortment of gingerbread, iron grill work and stone masonry.

On top of all that, it's large. Very large. And pink. Very pink. To quote my favorite style guru, Tim Gunn, it's a lot of look.

And people do look. Actually they stare.

I like my neighborhood. It's old, diverse and has character. The melange of architectural styles range from Hollywood Spanish and Tudor cottages to asbestos-shingled 1950s tract houses. Until recently we weren't too snobby. We were who we were, our architectural differences be damned. But then we decided to try to turn ourselves into an Historic District with all that goes along with that. Now we have Rules.

Not that that's a bad thing, but I suspect that the people who make "the Rules" do not approve of my neighbors' addition. I'm pretty sure they do not approve of many of their additions. I also suspect my neighbors take a certain pride and pleasure in NOT following the Rules.

I'm not sure whose side I'm on. On the one hand, I'm all for historic preservation. I've seen too many unpretty examples of what happens when the past is not preserved or preserved badly.

On the other hand, I am a strong supporter of the rights of the individual. Believe me if I wanted to live in a place with covenants, there are many other places I could live. But I live here. And I like it. And you know what .... I like my neighbors' house. It's odd. It's quirky. It's unique.

One evening a family new to the neighborhood cruised by on bikes. As they approached, they slowed, they gaped, they pointed. And then the littlest girl, a child of about seven gasped, "Look Mommy. Isn't that the most beautiful house you ever saw?"

I felt that way the first time I spied my Barbie's Dream House under the Christmas tree. I felt that way the first time I saw Cinderella's castle at Disney World. I felt that way the first time I saw Versailles. All these structures are a little over the top -- but exactly perfect just as they are. And who is to say the pink house isn't perfect just as it is? Certainly not I.

I hope my neighbors enjoy their new sun room.