Homing In: Red Doors, a Nisei Landscaper and Walking Neighborhoods

It's a fine thing to live in a walker-friendly neighborhood. Every morning I choose my route for the day, and no matter which direction I turn, I know I will find a pleasant path. Within a three-mile radius, there are curving streets with no sidewalks; straight, level square blocks with good sidewalks; slight hills; steep hills; alleyways and cut-throughs, all in a neighborhood filled with huge old trees. The houses are a fine mix of architecture, some from the '20’s, most from the '30's, late '40’s (remember the post-WWII 'building boom?') and '50’s, with here and there some brand-new 'in-fill' homes squeezed between older houses.

Brick is the building material of choice in this part of America, for many reasons. In the first place, the soil around here is red clay, and virtually all a brick maker needs to do is dig it up, shape it, and pop it in the oven. Then, too, brick is excellent insulation against the humid heat of a southern summer, and protection from the plethora of insects that chew anything chewable. But there are plenty of other building materials that are popular, too, everything from stucco to shingles to aluminum siding. My neighborhood also boasts a wonderful variety of architectural styles.

Fairy red doors in Ann Arbor, MI; by Dwight Burdette, Wikipedia

What sets my teeth on edge is venturing out from the city into some of the new subdivisions where the houses all look the same. I don't mean sprawling suburbs of cheap little cookie-cutter houses like the developments that were built to accommodate all those returning soldiers in the '40's. We’ve all gotten used to those. At least they weren't pretentious and expensive. But in this part of the world, the developers of the '90's have built huge, tall, narrow brick houses, crammed on small lots, studded with every style of window and door and trim, all mixed together. Badly proportioned Palladian windows and Victorian gingerbread appear on the same facade; Georgian, Edwardian, Mediterranean villa — styles and periods seem to be scrambled randomly and used with no thought to proportion, unity, setting, etc. And dear heaven, the prices they ask for these monstrosities!

My wonderful old neighborhood seems to survive despite the occasional 'in-fill' new house, which towers over its neighbors and is crammed onto too small a lot. The older homes soften the rawness (some might say gaucherie) of the new.

Lately I have noticed that Feng Shui, the Chinese principle of harmony and balance which has long been popular among decorators in other parts of the country, has found its way into the South. On my walk yesterday, I counted no fewer than 14 newly-red front doors. Red is supposed to be a color of welcome and good fortune. There were all shades of red: brick red, Chinese lacquer red, maroon, Pompeiian red, deep pink, light rust, crimson, scarlet, burnt orange … but definitely all relatives of red. Walkways, too, have begun to show the Feng Shui influence, rerouted from the straight-to-the-door, efficient walks of a few years back to gently curved and carefully landscaped paths with perhaps a dry lake of stones, a small lantern, or plantings of evergreen shrubbery.

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Homing In: Red Doors, a Nisei Landscaper and Walking Neighborhoods

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