Chances are if you own a home you've been through it. That innate desire to make something out of nothing, recreate a room, feather your nest... Whatever. My husband and I have been doing it forever. Since before we were married, before we had kids (together), before I became a real estate agent we have been taking on little home improvement tasks and making mountains out of mole hills. Our current house is perhaps our longest project, a constant reminder that nothing is ever perfect and the cobbler's children have no shoes. We bought this house exactly 2 years ago and immediately began tearing it apart. New kitchen, bathrooms, walk-in closet, yada,yada,yada. When we finally moved in we began the back yard improvement, creating an oasis for our family and various animals. Meanwhile, we became so negligent with our front yard that we started getting visits from the city.


Our house had a huge hedge that masked the property from the street, or so we thought. The lawn died. We started parking on the dead grass. At one point my husband parked his boat there too. Once when showing property on our street, my client was pointing out all of the nice homes as well as the stinkers. Not knowing it was where I lived, he pointed to my house and just shook his head. That evening, as my husband was headed down what was left of our driveway, decked out in spandex on his new road bike, I lowered the boom.
We contacted an old friend, Van-Martin Rowe to come up with a design for our front yard. I envisioned Easter egg hunts on a sprawling front lawn, perhaps a picket fence, off street parking and a trash enclosure. Nothing fancy. A quickie-redo that would take at most 2 months.
Within weeks, we had a fabulous rendering of a dream front yard: low rock wall, gated brick driveway, a trellised pedestrian entry and a covered trash enclosure. We started scouring stone yards for the perfect wall finish. After about 1 month, we decided on a pedigreed stone. New York cobble removed from the streets of NY after 9/11. Originally the stones had come across from Europe as ships ballast. $5 a stone...sold! We had to have it (we also have a $1500 SilverKing vacuum that a door-to-door salesman sold to Greg years ago).
So, the hedge comes down. The last shreds of dead grass blow down the street. Thousands of dollars worth of stones are delivered. A salvage person begins to deliver 1,000,000 bricks rescued from a demolition site in La Crescenta. Our front yard begins to look like Rustic Stone. My husband waters the dirt. We are into the project 3 months at this point.
Finally, the wall begins. We attempt to follow the drawing, stick with the inspiration. No one figured on the slope of our front yard. From the north point to the south point at the street, we go downhill 4 feet. So our lovely "swooped" wall looks more like a ruin:

We stand across the street and argue whether the tops of the columns should be level (my idea) or follow the slope of the land (his idea). I whine that it looks like the Stone Henge set from the movie Spinal Tap, only without the little people. After another month of deliberating, the swoops come off.
Van-Martin comes over to resolve the wall issues and provides marriage counseling services. We finally agree that the wall will be level, but step down slightly on the south side of the driveway. Progress. Our workmen go to another job, and Greg goes on a bike ride.
After another month I have a first class freak-out and the workers come back to finish the wall. Van designs a lovely brick detail and orders trees to keep me happy. In a loving gesture, my husband gets off of his bike and lays out our new circular driveway. The dumpster moves in front of the wall, almost like an ugly statue watching over our unfinished project. 2 months later, the driveway is finished. 1,000,000 bricks set running bond. It is beautiful. But the dumpster is still in front. Stop by if you have excess trash you need to get rid of.
Stay tuned for part 2. I am praying it will finally be the "after."