Rant incoming

Actually....it's grief again...

I have two low slung wicker chairs on my front verandah, they look over a gently sloping front garden crowned by a Golden Elm and underplanted with mostly natives, with the occasional lime green euphorbias and a tumble of hydrangeas in summer. It’s a wonderful place to catch the afternoon and evening sun and watch the crimson rosellas, king parrots and the occasional sulphur crested cockatoo feed at the bird feeder.

It’s everyone’s favourite Gin and Tonic spot and an ideal reading spot.

Photo by Leonardo Miranda on Unsplash

It used to be beside a stand of messmates and was a peaceful oasis. Following the massacre of the entire block of trees back in December the next door block has been a hive of activity. A house is being built.

I like the builders, they are respectful, take pride in their work and listen to quite good music. They speak to one another politely and with friendship and wit. It could have been otherwise; tradie radio could have played Kyle and Jackie O and the tradespeople could have been rude, loud and intrusive. So for this I am grateful.

But the house!!

Let’s set context. I live in a small rural/residential town about an hour from Melbourne on the Mornington Peninsula. It was once known mostly for its apples but as with much of Victoria it is now awash with vineyards and winemakers and wineries. Across the road from me there are cattle and alpacas, behind me is remnant bushland. About 1200 people live in this friendly little town where we collect our parcels from the local shop and share local news as we do so. Sure, it’s not all low key residential. There is quite a bit of wealth down here too and some big multi million dollar properties. But, on the whole, why I was drawn to it and why I still love it, is that it’s a town that lives mostly harmoniously and gently in the natural setting.

As opposed to the new house next door. On a block completely denuded of all vegetation they have built the biggest black box they can. It is set quite far forward so there is no escaping it. Not only does it have black walls, but a black roof. So it’s visually intrusive. But a black roof, in an Australian summer?? To keep their house cool on those sweltering days they will need to amp up the aircon. There’s nothing charming or whimsical or even interesting from a design sense in this new build. It’s big and I guess they get a lot of bang for their buck.

Our favourite Gin and Tonic/reading spot now looks at the black monolith and they can look at us.

Black monolith is actually way less attractive than this! Photo by Dan Burton on Unsplash

Rant incoming:

I am not proud but must admit I loathe everything about the house and its owners now. I generally give most people the benefit of the doubt and can find something to like in almost everyone I meet…but these people. Nope. Chatting to neighbours on the other side over a drink one evening where we bemoaned what this house was doing to our cosy little pocket of Red Hill I admitted that I thought only bad of this family. I said I should probably work on my mindset, but my younger neighbour said ”Nope, Let’s hate them until they give us a reason not to”.

So far no reasons.

In the first draft of this post I mapped out all the reasons they had given me to continue my loathing. It was quite a long list….It all looks kinda petty as I map it out: elements of entitlement, poor parenting, lack of consideration and their sheer LOUDNESS all made an appearance, and I will now spare you the actual list, but it adds up to a giant disruption to my peace of mind and restful state. Which is after all, why I moved to Red Hill in the first place. In my worst moments I catastrophise and can’t imagine staying here in my cosy home. I believe I will have to move. It will simply be unendurable. In my more sanguine moments I remember other neighbours I have known and realise this will be ok, probably.

And then of course it hits me. It’s grief. Again. I mostly came to terms with long covid and the restrictions it places on me. I created an environment that supported me to have a good life. My home is literally my sanctuary from an overstimulating, loud and unpredictable world. Now I feel angry and sad . My own little ecosystem is under threat. First they removed the habitat for birds and critters and now mine is being eroded.

My daughter is an urban planner with a deep interest in sustainability, I have a lifelong interest in design and architecture and together we fleshed out several other ways this house could have gone. All of them sitting gently on the earth and in harmony with this special place. But none of them would have been as big nor as imposing and maybe that’s what matters to them. I can actually hear them next door complaining now about the weather; it’s torrential rain to be followed by a “once in a decade” storm disruption with winds up to 140kph. They see no relationship between these weather patterns and the house they are building.

Luckily I still have the little bushland and am close to tranquil beaches and fern gullies. We may just have to pop our G &T in a thermos and walk to the picnic table in the bush behind, or read more at the beach sheltered in the tea tree. Perhaps I need to batten down the hatches and work more to make the inside of my home as soothing and lovely as it can possibly be? Or maybe, just maybe they will turn out to be good neighbours. Stay tuned.