Change it is a-comin'

The property across the street is up for subdivision. We always knew - or at least it dawned on us soon after we moved into this house - that this moment would come. Our neighbors were elderly, and the husband died a couple of years ago. Eva recently moved to a place closer to her kids. They had lived in this neighborhood for so long that she remembered the house that stood on our property before this one was built - in 1954.

It's a small house on a huge corner lot, and in this town, that means bulldoze and build up, baby! Every nook and cranny of unused land our neighborhood is being filled in by tall houses with little footprints, as the median house price in Seattle climbs well above $400,000. When little houses like this go on the market - they're goners.

I've always thought Eva's house would be fun to remodel. It's got an odd layout, kind of like a little villa with symmetrical wings off an open central area, and a big open patio off the back. She had a little orchard, grapevines, a rose garden, and a huge vegetable garden, at least until her husband got sick and she had no time to keep them up. She used to bring us homemade grape jelly and fresh green beans. The back yard has a towering old tree and an open view of the Rainier Valley, with the Olympic Mountains peeking over the top. I've had a vision for turning that little house into a Mediterranean-inspired sanctuary, modernizing the house within its open layout, maybe expanding it a bit, and bringing Eva's orchards and grapevines back to health.

But alas, there is a Notice of Proposed Land Use announcing plans to subdivide it not into two, but three lots, each of which would be 3/4 the size of ours - hardly spacious. I don't really care except that I'm worried you couldn't squeeze in three houses without taking down that stunning old tree, which would be absolutely criminal. We'll likely lose much of our view of the Rainer Valley with the Olympic Mountains peeking over the top, which is unobstructed by Eva's stout house but would be much diminished by three tall, skinny ones.

Soon, if we're not already there, Seattle is going to be a town where you can't buy a little house. At least not if you want to actually live in it.

In the meantime, there are some people living temporarily in the house, and - please excuse this terrible show of prejudice - it's like white trash central. We've gone from the quiet, elderly African-American couple with the meticulous garden, to a gaggle of young white guys who seem to make their livings fixing cars. There are literally a dozen beat-up cars up and down the street, and periodically a tow trucks will show up at 2 am to deposit a new one. We also hear hammering and banging at all hours of the night - are they stripping the house down for salvage? Or what? And why does it have to be in the middle of the night? They have a pit bull puppy, for heaven's sakes; it's as if they're trying to live a stereotype.

I know, that sounds snotty. There is absolutely nothing wrong with making your living by fixing up cars, it's an honorable profession. I just wish it wasn't so noisy. But, as Enrico points out - once the land use permit goes through, and the construction starts, this noise and street clutter will seem like nothing.