:: Heaving Brick
Eighty-seven years of freeze-thaw cycles have certainly taken their toll on the decorative and structural brick columns incorporated into our home’s front porch design. We knew the columns would need to be addressed at some point, but we didn’t realize how bad things were until we removed two overgrown yews situated between the columns. The yews not only obscured most of the damage, they also contributed to that damage by holding moisture against the brick and making the heaving worse over the years.
Sometimes Pearson House graces us with unexpected gifts, such as the $4,000 sprinkler system we didn’t know was both present and functional. Other times Pearson House curses us with more problems, such as the $4,000 it’s going to take to repair these columns and get our house closer to looking like a historic Craftsman home that is well-loved, well-cared for and well-maintained.
Four months into owning the home, my husband and I are largely able to roll with whatever Pearson House decides to offer up. We’re also doing our best to enjoy living here despite any issues we encounter. Each day, in large and small ways, things are getting better at Pearson House. And, best of all, love lives inside these walls — despite the brickwork crumbling around us.
This is why you admire the plants rather than remove them. Or at least that’s what we keep telling ourselves. Houses are so complex. One part crumbles while another part thrives. They’re almost people.
We really needed to deal with this issue. For that reason, I am happy we caught it and can now address it. It’s going to make the house look much better, so at least we’ll feel like there’s a payoff — as opposed to the type of work that has to be done but doesn’t make the house look or feel any nicer.
Houses *are* almost people. I like that idea of them (i.e., houses and people) being capable of at once crumbling and thriving.
Mostly, yes.
But when Treyvon Martin was shot, many around here pointed out that such things happened at least every week. When Oscar Grant was shot, many of us shrugged and thought it typical. Complacent. Looking out for our own. That’s how I excuse us. That’s how I sleep. I wasn’t there for Grant, but I am here for Martin in my way. And I understand that so many don’t see why one case is special.
Houses need no excuses. They wouldn’t exist without us. They’d remain forests and dirt and clay. We would look upon them with well-deserved wonder. Imagine a house coming to be purely on it’s own. Consider what that would mean for the rest of us. Pure altruism.
I do not believe that I have the strength for such altruism. I hope someone does.
“Houses need no excuses. They wouldn’t exist without us. They’d remain forests and dirt and clay. We would look upon them with well-deserved wonder.”
I don’t know about that. We’d probably look at them and think, “I could make this into a field for crops, or into a mall, or into a subdivision.”