Karen emails to point out the seattlepi.com has this house as the centerpiece on its home web page.
(We don’t think she’s a fan.)
There’s a raft of photos from inside the $1.4 million home on Eighth Avenue Northeast at Northeast 92nd Street.
The real estate listing is here.
It’s amazing how much jealousy and envy crop up on this site.
Anna’s comment — that people make a neighborhood — is so true.
In the fall of 2012, construction began on a large house next door to me. All during the time it was being built, when working in my yard, angry, negative people would walk by, stopping to tell me how much they hated the house, hoping I’d show support, which I never did. An endless Cavalcade of Sour. I figured whoever moved in would be infinitely better than my previous neighbor, who never met a weedeater or lawnmower he liked. Turned out I was right — now I have a fabulous couple and their two nice teen-aged kids living next to me.
As Joe wrote, “Things change.”
It’s just a house. People make a neighborhood, not the boxes they live in.
Give it a rest, people.
The original settlers of north Seattle likely bemoaned the destruction of the neighborhood’s character when new houses were built after WWII.
Time passes. Things change.
Eventually, we’ll all be gone and no one will care what we think about this today. Just be thankful we’re lucky enough to live in a neighborhood that someone has enough confidence in to build a $1+M new construction.
At least the lot wasn’t split in half with two identical flat-roof boxes (I mean houses) built on it.
The new home will be old one day, too.
Here’s a link to Richard Hugo’s wonderful poem about a neighborhood whose character had changed, and how it affected a man who’d lived there:
http://michaelschiavo.blogspot.com/2004/11/what-thou-lovest-well-remains.html
In regards to the tableau that was on the site, it wasn’t just overgrown grass that gave character; it was a combination of things, and how living things interacted with each other.
Richard Hugo caught similar elements in his poem about a changed neighborhood, which had been an important part of his life: “What Thou Lovest Well Remains American.”
Nothing says character quite like an overgrown grass.
We called it the single – family cathedral while it was being built….
I miss the funky house, complete with an aging 1970s Dodge pickup truck, that was replaced. It had been there for years and had more character.
There was an orange cat, named Merlin, who lived across the street; he used to walk over and hide in the overgrown grass. It was his own personal savanna.
It reminds me of me…it’s HUGE! But a lot smaller than the penthouse in my namesake tower in Manhattan.
“Their goal was to build a home that had all the advanced technology, but had a Craftsman style that fit with the rest of Seattle architecture”
Not sure what made them think that river-rock, cedar shingles, & a street-facing 3-car garage would fit with Seattle architecture.