We spent Labor Day weekend with family south of here. They live in what has to be one of the prettiest neighborhoods in the U.S. The narrow streets twist up and over hills and are shaded by the virtual canopy of trees overhead. The yards are manicured and everything is tidy. But this isn’t a cookie cutter neighborhood of mcmansions, where everything matches, including the limited imaginations of the residents.
It’s settled and there’s a huge variety of houses.
I call this one “Ode to Tara.”
Here’s a nod to modernism.
You’ll even find a few ’50s ranches.
But there’s one house here that always catches my eye. I just think it’s prettiest house ever. This is a house where there’s never junk mail scattered across the kitchen counter. Clothes iron themselves and weeds never dare show themselves in the flower beds. Spiders don’t lounge around in sinks, cats don’t drag in halves of bunnies and beds make themselves.
The wine is always perfectly chilled and the coffee is always piping hot. (You can click on the photo if you want to see it bigger.)
It’s hard to tell from this, but there’s a peachy color on the wall that sort of glows in the late afternoon.
Anyhow, my birthday is in a couple of weeks.