House Personalities

Some houses seem to have names, faces, and a history that you can almost divine just by walking past it. Take this house above, for example. A true postmodern house that focuses on form rather than function--on fancy rather than practicality. I can picture the higgly-piggly Mr. Pickwicks that live in there. It's an Alice in Wonderland kind of house. Maybe there will be little Lollipop Kids in there or something.

Then there's this enigma. It looks a nightmare to me. But again, a true postmodern house that is making a statement, defying convention, thumbing its nose at all those pillared plantation style homes that define what a house is supposed to be.

Some homes give off a decidedly frightening, cold, or conflictual vibe when you walk inside it. I used to hate to visit one woman because her marriage was on the rocks and I could feel it whenever I walked in the door. Even without anyone saying anything--unhappiness hung in the air like a wet blanket.

For years I have looked at houses very closely, for a variety of reasons. When I was single I used to go walking in the evenings and enjoy seeing the lights on in houses, forms of people having supper around a table or gathered together in the livingroom. I looked at those homes with real longing and wondered how those people had been able to pull that off and I hadn't.

Later, I looked at houses with intention to rent. Renting apartments was really tiring and it was time to graduate into something more substantial and that could hold my many belongings. So into a house rental I went. In the meantime, I looked at many a house, trying to find one that had a "good personality." You know what I mean: it feels warm and inviting, bright, with lots of greenery around it, room for a garden and a dog in the backyard. I could imagine myself entertaining people there and feeling comfortable bringing others home on a whim.

For some years I used to drive up to a local community college, taking one course at a time in order to get some pre-requisites out of the way for my master's degree. As the main road bore off to the right, there was a small, dark and ominous looking house on a hill that abutted out above the road. It always made me shudder because it looked like the kind of place where people committed criminal acts and hid the bodies in the basement. It needed paint and it had no yard. There was sometimes a single light left on, but it looked largely uninhabited. Really creepy. So I used to say a prayer every time I drove past it, looking up into the curtained, dark windows. I wondered if it was haunted, it was so awful looking. When we moved to this community I was delighted to see that someone has renovated the house, put up a picket fence around it and painted it in bright pastel colors. It is a charming sight now, even though I still eye the little side door into the garage and basement.

Up the road, nested up against a hill is a small off-white cottage type of house with a little steeple type affair on top that you may have seen on European country homes. I had just come back from visiting friends in Germany and remembered fondly these kinds of things on houses. My fantasy is that a German immigrant couple came here many years ago and settled in this valley, up against the hill. They have tried to keep something about the Old Country alive in their environment, and it is their house. I always crane my neck to see it when I drive by. One day I'd like to drive up there and find out who lives there.

When we were looking for a house to buy this year, we saw many houses that had no personality, no soul. Just big boxes. I couldn't imagine myself feeling good in them--they were too big, too impersonal, too perfect; no nooks and cranies to settle into with a good book, no cupboards under the stairs to put canned goods; no window seats or dormer windows. I look around my house now and see it almost as a blank slate that needs to have personality brought into it. It feels a bit sterile to me yet. I honestly like a much smaller, cozier house. But it was not all my decision, and I do love the area in which I live. We have no plans to leave any time soon!

It's been said that to men, a house is a responsibility and a statement of status. But to women, the house is an extension of themselves. So each gender typically views the meaning of a house in one of several different ways (I would add that these divergent views may also reflect personality and temperament type as well). Therefore, it seems that my job these days is to create an environment around the house, through landscaping, hanging quilts on the walls, making bedding and hanging pictures--all of which make it a warm, inviting place. I want to plant climbing roses across the back fence, put lavender out along the sunny western wall of the house, put in dwarf fruit trees and a homey vegetable garden. It is frustrating not to have time to do these things--yet. Thus, this extension of myself must wait until I have time to do with it what I'd like.

Houses have different personalities and different meanings. After standing empty for eight months, ours is happy to embrace the life that is lived in it.