The yards of these houses are also spectacular – filled with majestic oaks and magnolias, brimming with shrubs and perennials and everything tended with the most love and affection that money can buy. Even the street itself is smooth, without potholes (recently resurfaced while other more deserving but less affluently named streets are neglected) and has a charming tree and plant-filled island dividing it at the apex of the hill.
But every time I go down Mansion Drive I find myself wondering… is all the beautiful perfection on the inside too? Do the resident’s lives match the exterior? Grand, sumptuous, impressive and full. Or are they more like the peonies blooming in their flower beds? Showy and beautiful until flattened to the ground by the first summer thunderstorm. Does wealth buy happiness or (as an old friend says) does it merely pay the postage and handling? Or does wealth have little to do with one’s satisfaction with life?
I’ve noticed that in the front of one of the stately colonials on the street is a very big, very dead oak and, since it could easily fall and damage the house, I speculate why they do not have it removed... maybe the oak is a reminder of a beloved spouse who has also died. Or the owners are so busy that having the tree taken out is just something on a long list of household chores and they can never quite find the time to call a tree service. Or all their spare money is tied up in the house, the cars or college tuition, just like 99% of other people.
What is my point in all of this? I really don’t think I have one. Would I want to live on that street? Sure, who wouldn’t (especially in that Arts & Crafts house – the new couches would go perfectly). Would it be worth changing my life as it is right now to be able to afford to live there? No. So for now, I’ll stay in my austere, rented colonial on a marginally fashionable street and just visit Mansion Drive and admire and wonder…
No comments:
Post a Comment