One of the benefits to living in a Southern-hippie-town is the creativity of my neighbors. Taking a walk around, there aren’t two houses that look alike. Lawn ornaments, or entire sculptures are the norm. Fences aren’t chain-link, but rather usually some sort of crafty amalgamation of recycled materials. Landscaping is less Edward Scissorhands and more overgrown garden (figs, persimmons, tomatoes, squash all abound in Carrboro). Every walk is new; you always see something you missed before (kind of like watching a movie for the second time or going on a tour of your favorite city and thinking “I’ve never seen that street!”)
In many ways, the houses here are places where I could imagine myself (granted, just transplant them 6.000km east and put a hot paella on the porch instead of having the bbq out back). They are not too big. Not too old. Not too perfect. Not too far from the centro. Like the oatmeal gobbled by Goldilocks, they are just right.
I’m quite content in my townhouse right now-my down comforter, my books, and an antique green chair all make me feel right at home. In it’s own way, this house with its 1960s faucets and popcorn ceilings is also a creative space. The occasional cockroach adds excitement to waking up and the walk across the parking lot to do my laundry keeps me fit (if always short on quarters). It’s a good place for me right now.
Cheers to houses that make you feel at home.
Around town, here are three of my favorites.
(At night, house two is a real looker…the art inside is pure delight!)