True Confessions of a House Stalker
Letting go when a new owner dares to change a beloved house's look can be downright difficult. Has this ever happened to you?
Alison Hodgson
June 17, 2013
Houzz Contributor. Author of The Pug List: A Ridiculous Dog, a Family Who Lost Everything, and How They All Found Their Way Home http://alisonhodgson.net
Houzz Contributor. Author of The Pug List: A Ridiculous Dog, a Family Who Lost Everything,... More
There is a house down the road that I have been in love with for years, an old farmhouse perfectly situated and so beautifully maintained that I have been a secret admirer since the first time I saw it.
It's a simple house with good and honest lines. The landscaping once upon a time was simple too: a lilac bush and a redbud and several rhododendrons flanked the front door in gracefully curved beds filled with vinca and pachysandra. A hedge of forsythia lined the driveway, and in the side garden there was a massive bed of peonies surrounded by other old-fashioned perennials. Beyond that there was a large vegetable garden. A white fence ran the length of the property, and in front of the house it was surrounded by daffodils in spring and daylilies in summer.
Everything was just right and meticulously maintained, and it was homey and beautiful and I loved it so much, and then it was sold.
Given the chance I would absolutely stalk all the houses shown below. Until then I'll settle for drooling over them on Houzz.
It's a simple house with good and honest lines. The landscaping once upon a time was simple too: a lilac bush and a redbud and several rhododendrons flanked the front door in gracefully curved beds filled with vinca and pachysandra. A hedge of forsythia lined the driveway, and in the side garden there was a massive bed of peonies surrounded by other old-fashioned perennials. Beyond that there was a large vegetable garden. A white fence ran the length of the property, and in front of the house it was surrounded by daffodils in spring and daylilies in summer.
Everything was just right and meticulously maintained, and it was homey and beautiful and I loved it so much, and then it was sold.
Given the chance I would absolutely stalk all the houses shown below. Until then I'll settle for drooling over them on Houzz.
The house went on the market a few months after our house was destroyed by fire, and it was in our price range. If we hadn't already signed with a builder, I would have been very interested, but as it was I had to shrug and say, "It wasn't meant to be."
After it was sold (well within our price range — sorrow! sorrow!) I kept a close, loving, beady eye on my precious. The new owners' first spring in the house, I happened to be on an exercise plan that required me to walk by it twice a day, almost every day, so I had ample opportunity to observe any changes.
Early every spring the previous owners had always hired a couple of college guys do a thorough cleanup: beds cleaned out and mulched, trees pruned, shrubs trimmed and the lawn raked within an inch of its life and mowed.
The lack of a massive spring cleanup was my first cause for alarm. Next, holes began to appear in the lawn of the side yard. This yard was small and melted into the woods, so I couldn't imagine what they were doing. All too soon it became horribly clear: They were installing a chain link fence! It made no sense and was an aesthetic assault. Because of the yard's topography, the fence seemed to stagger across the lawn. Another week of walking revealed a new glass door (very nicely installed) in place of a window, and the next week two dogs barking and running the length of it explained everything.
The dog lover in me completely understood and forgave, but the secret admirer-stalker-lunatic stood by my initail assessment: It was an abomination. I may be fussy and obsessive, but I always try to be fair, so I held out hope: Perhaps they would plant something to soften or obscure the fence. It was in part bordering on deep shade that would need to be taken into account. I thought a row of hydrangeas or viburnums would do nicely.
After it was sold (well within our price range — sorrow! sorrow!) I kept a close, loving, beady eye on my precious. The new owners' first spring in the house, I happened to be on an exercise plan that required me to walk by it twice a day, almost every day, so I had ample opportunity to observe any changes.
Early every spring the previous owners had always hired a couple of college guys do a thorough cleanup: beds cleaned out and mulched, trees pruned, shrubs trimmed and the lawn raked within an inch of its life and mowed.
The lack of a massive spring cleanup was my first cause for alarm. Next, holes began to appear in the lawn of the side yard. This yard was small and melted into the woods, so I couldn't imagine what they were doing. All too soon it became horribly clear: They were installing a chain link fence! It made no sense and was an aesthetic assault. Because of the yard's topography, the fence seemed to stagger across the lawn. Another week of walking revealed a new glass door (very nicely installed) in place of a window, and the next week two dogs barking and running the length of it explained everything.
The dog lover in me completely understood and forgave, but the secret admirer-stalker-lunatic stood by my initail assessment: It was an abomination. I may be fussy and obsessive, but I always try to be fair, so I held out hope: Perhaps they would plant something to soften or obscure the fence. It was in part bordering on deep shade that would need to be taken into account. I thought a row of hydrangeas or viburnums would do nicely.
One walk I noticed a variety of pots gathered on the side porch. I couldn't see everything, but things did not look good. Another walk they were lined up against the fence: several ornamental grasses, some tiny arborvitae and some small shrubs that looked like burning bush.
The fence was a scar on that lovely lawn, and I thought there was only room for improvement, but I thought wrong. The grasses and shrubs were planted tightly together, two by two, and instead of softening, they highlighted the disfigurement; one's eye was drawn inexorably to it.
Well, mine was.
I don't know when it occurred to me I might have a problem — definitely far too long. My husband, Paul, walked with me a good bit and had been privy to my whispered criticisms. The year before, I had given up random and spoken negativity ("Did you see the color of that house? What were they thinking!"), but I made an exception for this special and dire case, and Paul wisely let me be. I think he knew I was working out some of the pain that remained from having our home set on fire, as well as the overwhelming anxiety from building a new house under great duress. I believed I'd spent too much money and made so many mistakes. If only we had been able to buy this house outright, I would have maintained it properly.
I finely began to hear my ugly criticisms and, at the same time, began to remember all the mistakes I made when I was learning to garden. And honestly, I'm still learning; I'll always be making new mistakes. Here's the thing: The house is still beautiful and — oh — it's not mine.
I stopped my commentary. For several weeks I didn't say anything at all, and then one day as we were passing, something occurred to me. I told Paul, "No matter how hard we tried, we never would have kept it as meticulously as the previous owners. I guess it's a relief to not be the ones 'letting it go.'" That it was being let go at all could be debated, but Paul and I both knew I had turned a corner.
The fence was a scar on that lovely lawn, and I thought there was only room for improvement, but I thought wrong. The grasses and shrubs were planted tightly together, two by two, and instead of softening, they highlighted the disfigurement; one's eye was drawn inexorably to it.
Well, mine was.
I don't know when it occurred to me I might have a problem — definitely far too long. My husband, Paul, walked with me a good bit and had been privy to my whispered criticisms. The year before, I had given up random and spoken negativity ("Did you see the color of that house? What were they thinking!"), but I made an exception for this special and dire case, and Paul wisely let me be. I think he knew I was working out some of the pain that remained from having our home set on fire, as well as the overwhelming anxiety from building a new house under great duress. I believed I'd spent too much money and made so many mistakes. If only we had been able to buy this house outright, I would have maintained it properly.
I finely began to hear my ugly criticisms and, at the same time, began to remember all the mistakes I made when I was learning to garden. And honestly, I'm still learning; I'll always be making new mistakes. Here's the thing: The house is still beautiful and — oh — it's not mine.
I stopped my commentary. For several weeks I didn't say anything at all, and then one day as we were passing, something occurred to me. I told Paul, "No matter how hard we tried, we never would have kept it as meticulously as the previous owners. I guess it's a relief to not be the ones 'letting it go.'" That it was being let go at all could be debated, but Paul and I both knew I had turned a corner.
I know I'm not the only one who has crushes on and stalks other people's houses in person. Houzz's own Becky Harris lives near this beauty and admired it in an article online, and through that met the owner!
And I'm probably not the only one who's affronted when a much-admired home changes hands and the new owners don't seem to realize the sacred vow they have taken therein.
I'm back to my regular walking, and I'm happy to report that the new owners are working hard in their massive vegetable garden and it's looking gorgeous. Around the house the redbud, lilacs and daffodils have long been spent, but the peonies are just about to bloom and the daylilies will be coming on after that. Someday when the owners are outside, I'm going to stop and introduce myself and tell them I've always admired their beautiful house.
More: How neighbors can make a house a home
I'm back to my regular walking, and I'm happy to report that the new owners are working hard in their massive vegetable garden and it's looking gorgeous. Around the house the redbud, lilacs and daffodils have long been spent, but the peonies are just about to bloom and the daylilies will be coming on after that. Someday when the owners are outside, I'm going to stop and introduce myself and tell them I've always admired their beautiful house.
More: How neighbors can make a house a home
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Dear Therese! I apologize if I misrepresented "stalkers" -- a word I used with humor attached. Of course these social media forums do not convey humor...
I would never do to anyone what your stalkers are doing to you. I hope you call the police. Most of us just drive slowly by now and then, and enjoy seeing a home we admire. Best of luck with your new home.
I apologize for seeming sensitive-I've tried to find ANY advice regarding my situation-all Google provides is that Case where the Foreclosed guy sent nasty letters and THIS Post. I DO realize "stalker" was used in jest, but I do stand by my observation that not all Homeowners might be receptive and am giving you a reason WHY. For the life of me, I have no idea WHY this woman is doing this. I'm sorry-I'm going to delete my post.
It really sounds like you need the assistance of the police.