Gardening, from Hobby to Obsession

 By Bill Primavera

Home Guru

The love for one’s home and property can sometimes produce extraordinary surprises in unexpected locations. And sometimes a whim can turn to an obsession, but a magnificent one.

I was reminded of this when my friend and fellow realtor Andi DePalma told me about a very unusual property in a more rural part of Cortlandt Manor in upper Westchester that has been selected this year by The Garden Conservancy for its national “Open Days” program that invites the public to visit private gardens.

Andi had arranged for a tour of the property for our local garden club, and when she showed me pictures of various vistas of the garden, I couldn’t believe that it was located in a community of midscale to modest homes rather than in one of our most exclusive estate areas. Curious, I asked for a sneak preview.  

From the moment I stepped out of my car, I was enveloped by a garden fantasy land with an Asian theme.  The landscaping all but obscured the modest ranch-style home it surrounds.

The half acre lot, ascending somewhat sharply from the road, hosts not a single inch of lawn. Instead, there are stone walls distinguishing multiple levels of trees, plantings, statuary, paths, architectural elements and structures, including bridges over a stone-lined dry river bed and a large pagoda painted bright red.

Not everything is visible at once, but walking along winding stone paths, up and down and across the property, there are many surprises that come into view as one social setting after another comes into view.

When I met the owner, Dan Meyer, he admitted that, over the past five years of his obsession with his landscape, he had spent considerably more money on the garden than the value of his home in an area where the average price is about $400,000. Why then would anyone spend more money on landscaping alone than can possibly be recouped when he chooses to sell his house?

“I don’t know, it just happened,” Meyer said. “I was driving along Route 9 and saw a new Asian shop that had opened up and there was this giant seven and a half foot long granite dragon in front,” he said, pointing to the statue now guarding the front of his house. “I’ve always loved Asian art, and I had to have it. I bought it along with two large granite Foo dogs, and I got caught up in it.” 

Before Meyer got caught up in landscaping, his property was “mostly just grass.”  Today there is not a single blade of grass to be found. Instead, the property offers a dense and eclectic mix of unusual deciduous trees, conifers, shrubs, and perennials that include maple in many varieties, ginkgo, weeping hemlock, umbrella pine, wine and roses weigela, a Montgomery blue spruce grafted on a weeping Norway, and a tall umbrella pine. 

Other plantings catch the eye endlessly, from azaleas and rhododendron, to yellow lady-slipper orchids and ferns, all enhanced with the color of annual plantings of impatiens and dragon-wing begonias. And where some open area is required to separate the many settings to pause, sit and reflect, various ground covers step in to serve.

“So how is it to not worry about mowing grass?” I asked, only to have Meyer reply, “But oh, the mulching and weeding!”  Having developed back problems mid-way into his project, though unrelated to the rigors of gardening, Meyer now trains workers to do the plantings and maintenance. “Now I just say, plant this here, and move that there,” he said.

During a summer draught two years ago, Meyer says that he watered heavily to protect his investment. “The average water bill was $60, but mine for that period was $360.00,” he confessed. The town asked us not to water our lawns, but I told them that I wasn’t watering my lawn because I didn’t have one! By that time, they knew about my garden and let me get away with it.”

The date set by The Garden Conservancy for touring Meyer’s property, located at 39 Lockwood Road, is Sunday, July 31, from 10 am to 4 pm. To learn about securing tickets, visit: 

www.GardenConservancy.org and go to the “Open Days” tab. 

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.

Decorating for Romance in the Bedroom

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

The intended headline for this piece contained that short, sweet word that always catches our attention, especially when it involves the foibles of some of our politicians. But my wife suggested that I not use that word in headline in a family newspaper and further, she questioned whether the subject itself was at all suitable.

In my defense, I noted that if it weren’t for sex (oops, I mean, romance), none of us would be here. So, I think it’s a valid subject to explore as it relates to decorating in a way to encourage or at least support it.

As I see it, and as I’ve read in some of the blogs that have considered the subject, there are certain basic elements in creating a romantic environment for the setting in question, the bedroom.  Here’s The Home Guru’s somewhat censored list:

Privacy:  It’s important to feel tucked away from other inhabitants of the house, including the four legged kind, with a good lock on the door, and, of course, for privacy from the outside, blinds or window coverings are necessary, especially if your bedroom is on the first floor.

Lighting:  Over and above everything else, including a comfortable bed, there should be appropriate lighting, and it should be low and soft. That forgives a thousand sins. A New York Times reporter recently interviewed a decorator who was starting to hoard more flattering incandescent bulbs, feeling that the plug could be pulled at any moment in favor of more efficient, but less flattering florescent or LED lighting. And if you don’t have one, a dimmer might be installed.

Color:  Hues in the room should be warm rather than cool to set the mood.  Tones from the red or brown families, even dark chocolate, can make a room’s occupants feel completely embraced by their surroundings.

Sound:  I have one of those sound effect machines that produces sounds of nature that lull one to sleep, but a better option for romance is an iPod with a playlist engineered for romance. Look at what “Bolero” did for Dudley Moore in the movie “10.”

A fireplace:  Most people would agree that a fireplace is the most romantic feature in any room. But if you don’t have one in the bedroom, you might consider the new electric fireplaces that are so convincingly realistic. And, if it generates true heat, you can lower the temperature in the rest of the house and be cozy just cuddled up in your bedroom.

Warm flooring: If you don’t have wall to wall carpeting, but rather a hardwood floor, it’s a good idea to have a fluffy kind of throw rug on either side of the bed so that it’s not a cold shock to the feet when settling in with someone else’s feet.

The bed itself: I suggest that the most romantic bed is the old fashioned canopy type or any other design that involves draping from the ceiling. In previous centuries, bed draping provided protection from the cold, but it now suggests privacy on all sides. And here’s a tip about beds purchased for romance.  Never buy one with a footboard; it can prove inhibiting, even painful, especially for taller people, even if only for sleeping.

If the mattress is too firm, it can be murder on the back, and it’s hard to feel amorous when lying on a slab. But, one that’s too soft presents other problems relating to two people moving about easily in shared space. To the rescue are the new mattresses that can be adjusted for firmness, even providing different settings for each side of the bed.

Appliances: Besides the kind that can’t be mentioned in a family newspaper, there might be a small refrigerator for refreshments so that the flow of the evening won’t be interrupted by a trip to the kitchen. I remember reading that when Barbara Streisand was married to Elliott Gould, they kept a refrigerator as an end table so that she could enjoy coffee ice cream in bed.

Ashtray? As an afterthought, if this were written 25 years ago, I would have suggested having a cigarette box, lighter and ash tray on an end table because of the expectation we had at that time of what people most wanted afterwards. But most of us have given that up.  That is, it’s the smoking that we’ve given up.  A smoking-days acquisitions that my wife and I laugh about now was an ashtray with a bean bag bottom that could sit level on my chest in bed.

No matter the nature of your relationship, or even if you choose the single life, a quiet, romantic refuge for waking up or retiring can set the mood for anything that comes in between.

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.

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.