Something changed in the neighborhood this year. Like most changes, it takes a while to discern if the change is for the better. We got a new landlord. Don’t read me wrong, we liked our old managers and most of us experienced a bit of trepidation at the change. The lease ran out for our noisiest neighbor and thus provided the Peace my roommate had been praying for. Our second noisiest neighbor got a different boyfriend and settled down. Things got a bit sloppier for a few months with regard to yard care, but it was winter and no one really noticed. Interior problems like hot water heaters and furnaces were addressed promptly. Along about April, we received notice that our rents would go up. Although this was unwelcome news, it was not unexpected. Housing, both purchased and leased, has sky-rocketed in our town. Then came the spring and that stirring desire to get things reborn. My neighbor to the east has been clamoring to garden for the past two years to no avail. Our old managers, while kind, were fearful of individualization run amuck and kept everything uniform. Groundcover. Exotic shrubs. Rules about no personalized porches. The two hanging basket hooks on my porch watched the passing world with empty eyes. Useless. Meanwhile, my roommate laid plans to hatch a homestead complete with sustaining garden. She dreamt of owning 10 acres in New Mexico, yet she languished in town in an 1880s row house.
As spring came on, shortly after we received notice of rents increase coming in summer, we also received an additional written communication. Tenants were granted permission for potted plants on porches. Hanging baskets were encouraged. A monetary allowance was provided each unit that wanted to participate. A community garden space for the courtyard was in the works. Renters who had been languishing in aimless inertia sprang into action pulling dusty lawn and garden implements from storage and attacking the sprawling ground cover, engaging in horticultural art. Getting their hands dirty.
A swell of pride in ownership pervaded the quarter block. Neighbors met to chat and plan and contemplate this thing which was coming to pass. And as always, passersby stopped to ask after any available units, to beg the contact information for the owners. This process reminds each of us how lucky we are to have an historical dwelling, on the downtown grid, in such a beautiful neighborhood – even with the rent increase.
Never underestimate the power of flowers – the pride of ownership – the freedom to indulge in beauty and industry. My roommate is putting down roots. June is busting out all over. It is a beautiful neighborhood.
