Grandmother's garden

Grandmother's Garden

Lydia Field Emmet 

Since we have somewhat of a clean slate (also called a mess) in the backyard,  I asked a garage building contractor to come out and make suggestions.   Ed was a nice guy from reputable company and he seemed to know his stuff, especially regarding pushing the Seattle building codes to the legal limit.  He suggested (surprise!) a two-car garage with extra parking spaces in front.  He gave us an estimate.

Well, you really can't shock us anymore on what home improvements cost in Seattle, but I was a pretty overwhelmed by the scope of the project: the demolition, excavation of the backyard with heavy machinery and then concrete pours, plus construction of a new cement wall along the alley.  Of course the plum tree would go, the climbing hydrangea, the fig tree and other things like the brick patio.  I guess who cares, if your heart's desire is a 2-car garage?

It would take up most of the backyard real estate. I could already anticipate the fine irony of stepping off the deck into a building as big as our living room, kitchen and dining room combined.  Maybe I could cook Thanksgiving dinners out there, instead of on my 2-square feet of kitchen counter?

It would also open up a Pandora's box of outdoor projects like landscaping, new patio building, fences and deck repair. As I say, overwhelming, and the final cost kept ticking up, up, up.   Ed pointed out that a large garage would raise the property value.  But how about the architectural integrity of a little century-old bungalow? 

Does wabi-sabi even have a place in a Urban Village, where every inch of real estate must be maximized?

But we can't turn back the clock to this again, so it's back to the drawing board...