The Sad End to an Affair with an Old (Green) Friend

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

Is it possible to fall in love with a tree?  Yes, it happened to me, and the end of the affair, while necessary, was very sad.

Having come to upper Westchester from a block in New York City with only two sickly looking gingko trees, I knew I wanted a home with a lot of mature trees.  And, I found such a property that was anchored with two magnificent sugar maples, planted purposefully some time in the late 19^th century, one in the middle of the front lawn and the other in back centered no more than 20 feet from the house.

My family and I developed a closer relationship with the one in back which protected our home from the sun, heat and lightning for many years. My wife and I hung a collection of wind chimes from its lowest branches and, with the help of summer breezes, our tree would serenade us to sleep at night. And having built a brick and stone patio around it, the tree served as an immense umbrella for many memorable outdoor events with family and friends.

But our easy living together was seriously compromised in 1990 when my big green friend fell victim to the assault of the gypsy moth that attacked much of the east coast that year and the next. 

I hired an arborist who did everything he could to save it, and indeed he did prolong its life considerably, spraying it regularly for the next fifteen years with insecticides and injecting it with nutrients, while I watered it during periods of drought.  Together, we treated it like a patient.

The tree struggled valiantly, but each summer some branches would develop brown leaves before their time. By the next season those limbs would have no leaves and eventually they would rot and fall to the ground during a rainstorm or in high winds.

At its base, a large gap opened in the bark of the northern side of the tree, exposing a slowly decaying core, and a woodpecker did his damage on an uppermost dead limb.  I was so distressed by the tree’s failing health that I once wrapped my arms around half of its girth and talked to it, asking it to hang in there. Yes, the tree had become a family member.

It was that summer of incredible rains when my wife and I noticed that the decaying tree was starting to list toward the house. With some dread, I knew the time had come.

A few days later, three nice guys from a tree cutting service arrived, not knowing I was having a separation problem, and within minutes the bucket truck was in position, with a loud shredder stationed nearby.

The fellow in the bucket limberly began his task.  With each main limb, he would cut a three or four foot length with his chain saw held by only one hand. With his other hand, he would cradle the section of limb into his arm and swing it effortlessly away from the patio below before letting it fall.

When I found myself interpreting the man’s gentle grace in performing that task as honoring a long life being taken away from me, I knew it was time to go inside and not watch anymore. With the sound of a thundering crash, I looked out the window and saw that the upper half of the remaining tree had been cut and, guided by strong rope, had come crashing down against the side of the remaining portion of the trunk. The next time I looked out, the very bottom of the trunk was being sawed almost to ground level.

When one of the workers demonstrated that he could stick his finger into the pulpy decayed core of the tree, we knew that, had it not been removed, the tree would have paid us an unwelcomed visit through our roof.  So we did the right thing when it had to be done.

Now in its place is a smallish weeping cherry and, thinking positively, it does provide a nice burst of color in the spring. My living area there has turned from shaded comfort to bright sunlight, affording us the opportunity to surround ourselves with many bright annuals, but there’s now only a table umbrella shielding us from old man sun. I frequently think of and miss the big, natural umbrella we enjoyed for many years.

Only recently did my town, the last holdout in the county, enact a tree ordinance into its code that protects against private destruction of trees like the unbridled actions of a certain utility company. But there are those among us who will do anything to save trees when we can because, yes, it is possible to fall in love with them.

Bill Primavera is a licensed Realtor® (www.PrimaveraHomes.com), affiliated with Coldwell Banker, and a marketing practitioner (www.PrimaveraPR.com). For questions or comments about the housing market, or selling or buying a home, he can be reached directly at 914-522-2076.

You Can “Put the Blame on Mame (the Realtor), Boys”

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

When I was a kid, my mother would say “Put the blame on Mame, boys” whenever she felt that she was accepting some kind of blame undeservedly. When I asked one day about the origin of the phrase, she told me it was the name of a song that was responsible for making Rita Hayworth a movie sex goddess in the 1940s. 

Sure enough, when I saw the film “Gilda” (1946) on TCM, there was Rita in a black satin, strapless gown singing that very song, seductively as all get-out.  I was so entranced by her beauty and the fact that the bodice of her gown seemed to defy gravity that I didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics.

But recently, I was surprised to learn that the lyrics involve the two most catastrophic events in our nation’s history that involved the loss of homes. One was the Chicago fire of 1871 where over 100,000 were left homeless, and the other was the San Francisco earthquake of 1906 in which 400,000 homes were destroyed. The gist of the lyrics was that, instead of believing the made-up legend of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow kicking over a lantern that started the Chicago conflagration, or the forces of nature that caused the earthquake, you could put the blame on Mame, whoever that was.

Just as Mame was not the real cause of these great calamities, in the current “great recession,” all kinds of bad situations involving housing can be blamed on the realtor.

Recently I was called by a gentleman who had received one of my “just listed” cards that realtors send out routinely. When he told me never to send him a card again, I apologized for any inconvenience, but explained that many people like these advisories to know what’s selling in their neighborhoods and at what price.  He was not in that grouping. Instead he said, “It’s you realtors who made the prices of our homes go down!”

“How so?” I asked, recognizing full well that I shouldn’t have. “Because you set the prices low so that you can sell them more easily and make more money.”

 In his opinion, the blame was not with the subprime mortgage deals, unemployment, bankruptcies, supply and demand or any of the other factors that played into the current decline in housing values, but with the realtor.

Soon after this incident, I learned that a residence in my town was entering into contract with a buyer who planned to utilize the property for a group home for young adults with autism, and the listing agent is my good friend Ann Shaw, who is also with Coldwell Banker. Having been aware of group home issues in the past, I knew that Ann’s seller would probably face some neighborhood opposition. And sure enough, I soon learned from Ann, who lives in the same neighborhood, that a “frenzy” had developed among her neighbors, fearing a loss in value in their homes, and they were blaming her, thinking she had brought the offer to the seller.

“What people don’t know is that the developmentally disabled residents of a proposed group home are protected by both state and federal laws on Fair Housing, and we realtors are required to present all offers that come to the seller,” she said. “What people don’t know is that this is a licensed profession requiring considerable education, and we subscribe to a very detailed code of ethics to guide our performance.

“In a strong seller’s market, buyers get frustrated if multiple offers come in and they don’t get the house they want, but they can blame the realtor,” Ann continued. “And when lending institutions were giving loans to buyers who were not qualified and prices were inflated, we were blamed for the buyers bidding too high. And, now that prices are coming down to a more realistic range, it’s the realtor who gets blamed. Why is that?”

My theory is that, while a buyer or seller rarely encounters an appraiser or the banker who denies a mortgage or forecloses on a home, the realtor is the face they know…and can blame when things go wrong.  But we’re a hardy bunch and can take a hit of blame, undeserved as it may be, if it helps in any way!

Bill Primavera is a licensed Realtor® (www.PrimaveraHomes.com), affiliated with Coldwell Banker, and a marketing practitioner (www.PrimaveraPR.com). For questions or comments about the housing market, or selling or buying a home, he can be reached directly at 914-522-2076.

Tips for Keeping Windows, as Eyes of the Home, Clean

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

 Spring is here and color has returned to the landscape. At least I think it has.  As I look at my garden through my living room window, my view is interrupted somewhat by the dirt that has attached itself to the glass panes during the fall and winter months.

The first windows back in ancient Mesopotamia were literally just holes in the wall to let in light. And the purpose of glass windows, around since the Roman Empire, has remained pretty much the same, although today the new insulated windows also allow for heat and cool air retention.

In my opinion, the real purpose of windows is to observe the bucolic joys of the landscape from inside, but, with dirty windows, colors are dulled and, actually, less light enters the home.

My thoughts about clean windows were stimulated by a recent pictorial feature in The New York Times about window cleaners, captured in a series of dramatic photographs of them doing their brave job high upon Manhattan’s skyscrapers. The fact that the city below looks like an aerial map doesn’t faze them at all.  As for me, I have convinced myself that I would get nose bleed if I attempted to climb a ladder to clean my second story windows. Spiderman I’m not.

While I normally use professional window cleaning services to get that job done, the plan sometimes gets delayed or forgotten, and I get the foolish notion to clean some windows myself - -  but only on the first floor.

To do it, I have always used Windex which I have considered a miracle household product since I was a child cleaning my mother’s glass coffee tabletop with it. But lately, the “green” messages have been reaching me that the chemicals in it are not good for one’s health or for the environment.  Because the EPA does not require manufacturers of household products to list ingredients on their packages, who knows? I mean, didn’t it give you pause to wonder when you heard about those manic house cleaners who passed out from fumes while cleaning their bathtubs with household chemicals?

So, here’s the way to combat that fear with ordinary natural products around the house, namely vinegar or lemon. And the method makes good secondary use of your newspapers as well.

In a spray bottle, mix 1/2 vinegar and 1/2 water.  Or, with lemon juice, use proportions of 1/4 lemon juice and 3/4 water.  Simply spray the mixture on to the window pane. Then, take a single sheet of newspaper and crumple it in your hand, making a pad to polish the glass.

While I’ve heard that this system may not work as well as in the heyday of newspaper news because of the change in the composition of the inks used, I found that it works perfectly fine. Also, it is said that the ink leaves a film on the window pane which makes it harder for dirt to cling to the surface. 

If you’re more adventuresome about window cleaning than I, here’s a list of other tidbits of information about cleaning the “eyes” of the home:

*  Clean one side of a window with vertical strokes and the other side with horizontal strokes so you can identify which side of the glass has streaks. Clever, huh?

 * Wash windows on a cloudy day because direct sunlight dries the cleaning solution before you can polish the glass well.

 * Use a toothbrush or cotton swab to clean corners. 

* Eliminate tiny scratches on window surfaces by polishing the affected areas with toothpaste.

* Wash windows from the top down to handle drips on the way. 

* And if you’re really fanatical about a window with a brilliant shine, rub a clean blackboard eraser over a window that has been just freshly washed and dried.

Because I live in a historic home and wanted to keep the original windows intact, I added storm windows to create that air barrier that insulates, but that absolutely doubles the job. So, I say, bring on the professional window cleaners, found online and in the yellow pages.

In recent years, I paid about $800 for the entire job, but last spring, I found a handyman who performed the entire task for only $500, and he did a wonderful job. But, alas, when I called to have it done again this year, he confessed that he gave up the service because he just didn’t like doing the job.

I understand his sentiment perfectly.  

Bill Primavera is a licensed Realtor® (www.PrimaveraHomes.com), affiliated with Coldwell Banker, and a marketing practitioner (www.PrimaveraPR.com). For questions or comments about the housing market, or selling or buying a home, he can be reached directly at 914-522-2076.

Water View, Please, Even if It's from Sing Sing

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

So Sing Sing may be closing to save the state money and possibly make way for a luxury housing development?  Oh, my.  If this happens, future generations will understand the term “up the river” to mean traveling to classy digs, rather than to the “big house.”

Since 1825, the prison has held sway as the most famous penal institution in the country, perhaps in the world, with the possible exceptions of the Bastille or the Tower of London.  But now, there is strong sentiment to take the place down, lock, stock, and barrel and move all 1,725 inmates to another location. 

Much like Indian Point Nuclear Plant – oops, I mean, Indian Point Power Plant – there are some elected officials who say that a maximum security prison would never be built at that location today.  When the site was selected, its host town Ossining, then also called Sing-Sing until its name became notorious, was a more remote place. But over the years, the town’s image has traded an association with James Cagney as a movie gangster for the classier Don Draper character of “Mad Men.”

Dismantlement of Sing Sing may or may not happen, but one thing is certain. Homes on that patch of 60 acres on the banks of the mighty Hudson will not be hard to sell. There will always be a percentage of people who demand being on the water, or at least to have a view of it, whether it’s on “the” river or one of our many lakes in Westchester and Putnam Counties.

That preference has changed significantly since the 18^th and early 19^th centuries, when living along the river meant that you had to hold your nose to bear the stench from raw sewage dumped there, especially in New York City, and later, there was the danger of  toxic materials spewed from such industrial plants as GE further north.

Until relatively recently, people were cut off from the pleasures of the river by the necessity of industrial development, built there specifically for water transportation. And, in 1848 the Hudson River Railroad was located at “water level” on the river’s edge to allow the tycoons of Wall Street to travel easily to their country estates further upstate, but eliminating easy access to the river for the rest of us. This fact is acknowledged on tours at Sunnyside, where Washington Irving suddenly had his view of the river punctuated by the clatter of passing trains.

What is it about water “vus” that draw us? Perhaps it’s an imprinted thing that our brains associate water with calm and reflection. Maybe it’s the physical thing that water reflects light like a mirror and doubles our open space.  Perhaps it most appeals to those who enjoy water activities like boating and swimming. Probably it’s a combination of all three.

One of my first listings was for a home located on the shores of Mohegan Lake, and that listing earned me a buyer prospect whose top preference was a lakeside home. Over the next six months, we surely must have visited every home for sale in her price range on every lake in both Westchester and Putnam Counties. We saw some beautiful homes and some of questionable attraction, but it was always the view or the proximity to the shore line that compensated for any shortcomings of the structure that came with it.

Since then I have been asked many times to locate homes with water views and, fortunately, the Multiple Listing Service makes it easy for realtors to identify them. Beyond general criteria, like the number of bedrooms and baths, and the lot size, we can check the tab for “additional criteria,” then go to an option called “amenities.” Among them are “Lake/Pond/Stream” and another for “River.”

Right now there are over 400 homes on or near water for sale in the communities served by this newspaper.  The prices for these properties range from $299,000 for a place on Mohegan Lake in Yorktown to $3,250,000 for a combination horse farm with its own lake in Holmes in Putnam County.  And I’m sure that the sale of all of them will be facilitated by their H20 connection.

Me? I love water views as much as anyone, but I found my perfect historic home seven miles inland from the Hudson. However, I designed a pool surrounded on three sides by woods, making it look more like a pond. And if I stand at the window in my dining room and make a telescope out of my cupped hands, focused on the pool, I feel I’m on Lake Placid.

Bill Primavera is a licensed Realtor® (www.PrimaveraHomes.com), affiliated with Coldwell Banker, and a marketing practitioner (www.PrimaveraPR.com).  For questions or comments about the housing market, or selling or buying a home, he can be reached directly at 914-522-2076.