Winnie sort of suits mine. There were 989 of them in 1880.

I live at Linderhof. We named our house before we moved in and bought a brass plate for the front door so it's always been Linderhof to us. Why a name? Because we had been to England a short time before we bought our house and felt that the house we just bought had some of the same charm as those English houses and almost all English houses had names. So we felt that a name was appropriate.

Why Linderhof? The gentlemen who built the house was German, I am German and my DH's favorite place in Germany was a small castle called Linderhof.

Mine was built in 1970. If I add up the digits in my house # in different pair combinations, it turns out either Emily, Dawn, or Heather. The closest numbered street is 60th, which gives me Brenda.

Emily, Dawn and Heather just don't seem to "go" with my house style. Too feminine, perhaps a bit too frilly.

From Behind the Name: Brenda

"Possibly a feminine form of the Old Norse name Brandr, meaning "sword", which was brought to Britain in the Middle Ages. This name is sometimes used as a feminine form of BRENDAN".

Somehow, Brenda suits the house style better. More masculine, I guess.

We are on Loon Lake. We liked to get away from it all. We also had lots of ticks. We called it the Asylum for a while. (Loon and Tick Asylum)

We are now remodeling. It is now Loon Lake Labor Camp.

Didn't have to. It's been Bantersville School since appx. 1870-80.

Our last house was Weedy Acres. It sat on 7 acres of, well, weeds and bushes. By the time we left it was cleared and mowed, and we could actually see the lake from the house.

Our current house is Little Beau. It's tiny (940 sf) and had bowing basement walls (which we fixed). It was ugly, but we're almost done making it pretty. Hence Little Beau, as we turned a bow into a beau.

Our next house (we hope) is Brick Beauty. It's a cute brick foursquare around the corner that's a bit of a mess inside. The owner moved to a nursing home 2 years ago, and we think his POA is waiting until he dies to sell it (Medicare rules or something). No one even mows the yard anymore. :-(

The houses in Carmel (okay, "Carmel-by-the-Sea") only have names. What they don't have is addresses:

The one-square-mile village has no street lights or parking meters.[51] In addition, the businesses, cottages and houses have no street numbers. (Originally, the early artists who were the first builders of the homes in the town, named their houses, rather than having numerical addresses.) Due to this situation, the Postal Service provides no delivery of mail to individual addresses. Instead, residents go to the centrally located post office to receive their mail. Overnight delivery services do deliver to what are called geographical addresses, such as "NE Ocean and Lincoln" (Harrison Memorial Library) or "Monte Verde 4SW of 8th" (Golden Bough Playhouse). The format used for geographical addressing lists the street, cross street, and the number of houses from the intersection. For example, in the case of "Monte Verde 4SW of 8th", the address translates to a building on the West side Monte Verde Street four properties south of the 8th Ave intersection.

My in laws always had houses with names and stationary with the name of the house on it. My FIL's sister thought that (and her SIL!) a bit prentious. So she named the first house she bought "Stony Broke on the Bank" and when she moved up several years later, named it "Grander Manor". I loved Aunt Mary's wicked sense of humor!

It was common to name houses in England. Often they were named after garden features, like Rose Cottage and the name of the village.

I named the house I built Blackbird Ridge. Originally I was going to call it Vulture Gulch due to the many black vultures that liked to ride the drafts rising up out of the ravine that ran through the back of the property, but it bothered my dad. A LOT. So Blackbird Ridge it became, LOL!

When we bought the house there was a black mulberry beside the barn, near where we later built a small pond. The branches brushed the ground and formed a shady outdoor room underneath, where I planted violets and crocus bulbs. We put an old tractor seat in the crotch of the tree--my younger DD would often sit there to read a book, and the kids would always try to get the first ripe berries before the birds made a mess. I loved that tree, and named our house in its honor, 'Mulberry Pond.' Unfortunately the ice storm of 2003 started the decline of my dear mulberry; it had to be cut down a couple of years ago, so I guess we're now 'Stump Pond.'

If I had to choose a feminine name for my house it would be 'Martha,'
for a well-known gardener and decorator, to whom I have been
compared--on a smaller scale, of course, and before her prison time.

The houses in Carmel (okay, "Carmel-by-the-Sea") only have names. What they don't have is addresses

For a few months as a grad student, I lived in a formerly ritzy section of Long Island's Gold Coast, where the few faded grand dames were only known by their latest owner's names.Smith Residence, for example.

In the mid 1950s, a friend of my father living in Fort Recovery, Ohio, Dr. Julius Schweiger, placed a large engraved stone slab at the end of his driveway naming the residence Villa Julia after his wife. We all thought it looked like a grave marker.

Naming your house makes about as much sense to me as naming your car, favourite pair of shoes, or refrigerator. (Mammalian pets and most kids are the beginning and end of my list.)

I not only named my property (Blackbird Ridge as noted above), I also named several of my cars.

My first car - that actually ran - I named Lola. Because whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. She was a green VW Fastback. Loved that car and drove her until one day I opened the trunk (on the front in a Fastback) and I was looking at the tires - and I don't mean a spare. The only thing holding her together at that point was the very heavy duty trunk liner, to which ginormous flakes of rust still adhered.

Then I had a Datsun that was known as the Tetanus mobile, for obvious reasons if you could see her. Still ran great for years.

And finally I had a 70s era Ford Van which I named the Testosterone Mobile. No power steering, no power brakes, three on the tree. If I drove it more often than 2 or 3 times a month, there was a serious risk of a spontaneous sex change.

I have had many other cars which were never named - but sometimes the devices that make our lives easier turn out to have personalities of their own. Obviously they only have the personalities with which we imbue them (current state of computers still makes this true, though who knows how much longer before the Singularity overtakes us).

Nevertheless naming our "things" is fun.

On a second thought, it seems to make sense to name a house with a strong personality due to its history, architecture or setting. One-of-a-kind house in the neighborhood.

On the other hand, for a run-of-the-mill house in cookie-cutter developments it's likely to sound silly or pretentious. If it's a street of workers' bungalows from the 1920's-1930's, mid-century ranch sprawl or recent McMansions jammed into narrow lots, it's better to keep it simple and nameless.

Hmm, from the list I used, two of the names I came up with using our street numbers are also the names of my kids.

That is too coincidental, bpathome!

Yes, it seems silly for me to name my modest, non-unique urban home. But I felt compelled to make any attempt to connect with it, otherwise I'd want to tear it down (it's a real piece of work ;) It could easily be Money Pit, Piece of Junk...

But seriously, homes are being torn down in my city left and right, old beautiful homes (as well as totally neglected homes), for development. Two or three 'skinnies' or psuedo-townhouses on one lot, especially corner lots like mine. It happened to this home across the street (pics from google maps, sorry about the quality)

People are all sentimental about houses right now, and pretty much every neighbor was so happy that we bought our house and not a tear-down developer. I guess I caught the sentimental bug, too.

"But seriously, homes are being torn down in my city
left and right, old beautiful homes (as well as totally neglected
homes), for development. Two or three 'skinnies' or psuedo-townhouses on
one lot, especially corner lots like mine."

It's a shame that there seems to be little or no effort in preserving historical neighborhoods in Portland.

DH and I went to the Annual Eastmoreland Garage Sale today. Eastmoreland is such a beautiful old neighborhood with tree-lined streets. Old Colonials, English Cottages and Tudors - it's like a postcard. Of course, it's one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the city, but it's a real gem and the prices reflect it. Nevertheless, developers are allowed to tear the houses down, split lots or cram in new oversized houses. It's just sad to see the deterioration of the neighborhood character. It's much worse in Sellwood-Moreland - it's a real epidemic of teardowns there. I used to dream of a nice bungalow in Sellwood-Moreland, but not anymore. It's becoming a mix of skinny townhomes and McMansions.

There's so much talk about the need for infill development because of housing shortage. The press is lamenting the lack of "affordable housing" ad nauseum. What about the suburbs filled with faceless tract houses? Bland ranches and split levels built in the 50s-60s-70s. Not stylish "atomic" ranches by any measure, just cheaply built boxes plopped on lots with equally bland lawns. Why don't do the infill there? Nope, because no one would pay $500K or more for a new home there. It's such a farce indeed.

Just had to rant a bit after a long walk through those old neighborhoods. Sigh.