My appetite for the written word isn’t as voracious as it should be. Truth is, I read lots. I read lots and lots. But I don’t read too many books, and those I do read I rarely read to their completion. I read magazine articles and newspaper articles and online articles. I read these, and after a few dedicated minutes I have either learned something or I haven’t. There’s no engaging in characters, pretending to care about what happens to this hero or that heroine. There is only brief concentration followed immediately by a judgement. This is why I write in brief snippets, because I care about the reader and their schedule. Oh, and when I do read things I tend to look at the pictures, a lot.
That’s why I learned everything I needed to learn from a recent Crain’s article simply by studying the two accompany photos. The article was titled “ENDANGERED: THE BACKYARD”. The photo above the headline was of a rather institutional looking arrangement featuring a bluestone patio and outdoor fireplace with a hideous concrete mantle. Behind and above was an elevated “lawn” comprised of synthetic something-or-another, accessed by a stairway. All of this was surrounded by fencing, some wood, some iron, but all serious looking. The introduction of a child and an airborne soccer ball in the next photo did little to make this backyard look friendly and inviting.
And what of that ball? It was kicked all right, directly at the camera person who was likely crouched low to that synthetic turf. The ball probably ended up bounding over the fence and onto the lower patio- the bluestone one with the bad fireplace. Once it hit that patio, it bounced higher still, this time over the iron fence and down to the depths below. What depths? Well, the depths of the neighbors ground level lawn, of course. And that’s the discussion here: What happens when some neighbors raise their lawns and others don’t? We know the answer, even though the article doesn’t identify it. The answer is, of course, that the backyards end up looking like a tetris screen, and in this game there are no winners.
No pricing is discussed in this article, but I’m betting that to create a multi-leveled backyard requires an intense level of funding. Nothing in these photos looks cheap, well except for the views outside of the fancy synthetic backyard. This is an expensive undertaking. I’d like to suggest we try something else here. What if, if we live in Lincoln Park and are the sort that might be tempted to spend fortunes to create a yard where no yard truly wants to be, we took that money and we drove North and a bit West? What if we went to an area where backyards thrive? What if we took that money, and a bit more, and bought a whole yard full of grass. The real kind, with little bugs and photosynthesis and sweet earthy smells. What if we stopped trying so hard to force a yard into existence and just bought one someplace else?
If I lived in the city, be it the Loop city or the Lincoln Park city, I would need to escape it as often as I could. This isn’t just because I’m a lake kid who now resides in the country, this is because I’m a human being and I’m a believer in the fact that human beings need fresh air to breathe and lawns to walk barefoot over. I don’t think a city existence is what we were meant for, because my legs are not particularly strong and even I could kick the heck out of a soccer ball, clearing that wimpy city fence with ease. My son is in soccer now, and his proficiency mirrors mine at his age, which is to say I was pretty bad at soccer at age 11. Even he, with this inherited soccer handicap, could kick that ball over that fence and down the street until it rolled to a wedged stop under some car.
Sometimes, people try to make lake houses what they are not. They buy a small cottage, dripping in small cottage charm. Then they tear it apart, add onto it, put in synthetic this and plasticized that, and they stand back at their creation. What is it, exactly? Is it a lake cottage anymore? Or is it a raised ranch from Schaumburg? It’s hard to tell. That’s why respecting what something already is might be the very best way to approach individual houses. Bought a stately Georgian on a tree lined street? Let’s leave it a stately Georgian. Bought a small cottage in Cedar Point? Let’s leave it that, and respect the original design when remodeling it some. Bought a house in Lincoln Park with a postage stamp backyard? Leave it alone and drive to the lake. We have plenty of backyards for sale. Big, wide, green ones, capable of supporting anything activity your barefooted weekends can throw at it.