A Pattern of Words

The high heat of summer is upon us. Alleyways, once open and bare during winter, crowd on either side with overabundant growth. Neighbors’ compost bins flood with persistently trailing gourd blooms, ivy spreads its clawing tendrils up every back gate, and cheerful blossoms wave friendly faces at each other from every corner. My sunflowers are just beginning to raise their heads to the sun, while droning insects immediately set to work on them.

Exercising in the stuffy basement never seemed as gloomy, so I take to the streets and the alleyways, my iwatch pushing me forward with its steady pedometer. We live in a beautiful old neighborhood, each house boasting at least a hundred years under its belt. Many are tired, with lead paint gatoring on worn siding, wavy windows sealed shut, or sagging porches echoing of distant days. But it’s like they’re hiding under outdated clothing and many are springing out with new energy as families chip away the outdated bits with love to coax out new life. Old siding is being torn away or scraped off, new porches and porte cocheres raised up, and boarded up or painted transom windows resurrected.

The vast majority of the houses began life with the same footprint: a steady foursquare. Now it’s a delight to walk through the alleyways and peep into backyards to see how each home evolved into a different shape. A summer porch here, a new kitchen there. Doors that lead to nowhere as homes backtracked. Garages that collapsed eventually and left behind random landing pads. Additions built onto additions, each floor a slightly differing level and material. As the houses are cleaned up and revitalized, these different additions come together to form a unique and beautiful home. My favorite bits are the gorgeous details that new constructions never see these days. The old octagonal window winking from the attic, teethlike eave brackets lining the roof, metallic roof ornamentations, and carefully preserved stained glass windows.

Our house is an anomaly within the neighborhood in that it lacks many of these details. I haven’t decided yet whether they were stripped off, or never applied. Rumor is that our house was one of the first ones built on our street- sometimes I feel like maybe it was the test run. The first model that laid the foundation for all the fancier houses. Other days, I’m convinced the ugly siding is hiding beautiful aspects of our house’s charming personality. Patience, I tell myself. Peeling away the layers takes insane amounts of patience, especially when my days are occupied by small children. In the meantime, I putter in my garden and lay the groundwork for a beautiful yard.