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Sadly, last weekend, my son, had to put his dog down. While there are undoubtedly much tougher and far more profound losses in his future, Juice had become a valuable family member and four-legged friend, carrying our elder son through the isolation of COVID and well beyond.
Last year, we learned Juice had a rapidly growing brain tumor that was incurable . . . so we brought him home, showered him with affection, took him on long walks on the trails, and tried to keep him comfortable. Regrettably, his demise was inevitable, and having wasted away to nothing but skin and bones the last few months, putting him to sleep was both the humane and ethical thing to do. Even so, it was a heartbreaker to be sure, especially for Case, who fiercely loved and championed his dog like no other. For me, Juice wasn't love at first sight (more like an acquired taste).
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I'll admit it; I stopped at McDonald's on my way to San Leandro. Having decided that I can no longer stomach $6 iced teas (it's a tea bag and water for Christ's sake), I pulled off the highway and into the parking lot to secure a cheap refill. ($1.69 for a LARGE iced tea, thank you very much.)
I should preface this story by explaining that I worked at McDonald's in Sacramento as a high school student . . . I arrived back from England on Monday, having spent a week touring spectacular country estates and gardens with my sister, Jill. It was both a celebration of our upcoming birthday (65 years - yikes!) and a going-away gift for Jill, who plans to retire to Spain come fall. I'm both excited for her and distinctly aware that she's simply irreplaceable. Jill is not only my closest sibling, she's my right-hand man and my best friend. As identical twins, you tend to move through the world as a pair, never really having to go it alone, so it's going to be strange to have her a continent away (but all the more reason to get to Europe more often). We had a memorable time together and I'm sure there are many more adventures, not to mention more chapters ahead.
Jill and I are in the English countryside touring the MOST magnificent private gardens and estates, which include acres of open meadows, secret walled gardens, lush landscapes, fields of wildflowers inviting songbirds of every description, zen-like ponds and fountains, stone sculptures artfully displayed to catch the eye, precision-like hedges of giant yew and beech creating one lovely vignette after another, colorful trellises covered in climbing roses and clematis, peonies, peonies, peonies, and of course, the proverbial grass tennis courts and swimming pools (the "gentry" really do live differently)
I'm an "early bird" by nature, typically starting my day at about 5:30 AM, so I adhere to the old adage that states: "the early bird gets the worm." Truth is, I am more productive between 6:00-9:00 AM than I am the entire rest of the day. Bedtime? It's also early, much to my husband's consternation; I'm usually in my jammies and asleep before 10:00 pm. On the positive side, invite me for dinner and I'll never be the guest who outstays her welcome. (Punctual to a fault.)
However, "early" doesn't always work to one's advantage . . . "My mother planted those GIANT Junipers," the Seller said, nostalgia dripping from her voice. "I'd hate to take them down."
"That's unfortunate because the trees literally block the house," I said, "you could easily drive right past and never know the home was there at all. (That's no exaggeration - there's a very cute house waiting to be loved behind those trees.) "It's nothing to write home about," the gentleman loudly said into his phone while Face-Timing his out-of-town friend, "but for your purposes, it will do."
"Pardon me?" Listen, reasonable minds can agree to disagree, but it's probably NEVER a good idea to walk through a house in front of the listing Agent critiquing it while others are within earshot, especially as we've just spent weeks getting the property ready for the marketplace to make sure it shines and presents in its best light. "I'll meet you this evening for the BIG unveiling," my email said, and then I added, "fair warning, you may not initially love the work." (Let's just say I've traveled this road before.)
While Agents know that staging provides the BIGGEST and BEST returns on a a client's investment, Sellers don't always meet our improvements with the oohs and aahs we were hoping for. Even the most stunning transformations can illicit a negative response, and while that's not necessarily unexpected, it can feel like a letdown after we've spent weeks (sometimes months) preparing the property for market. (It's not every Agent that can professionally hang wallpaper, but we are truly hands-on.) I'm always a little amazed and amused when I get the inevitable question from the Buyer's Agent prior to the offer date: "What are the Sellers' expectations? (They're "great.")
With more than 20 years of selling Real Estate, I've yet to answer that query the way they'd probably prefer: "They just want a nice family who will love the house as much as they have. Price isn't really their driving force or even their objective . . . " (Yeah, right.) “I love the house,” the woman said, “but it’s the garden I can’t get over,” she gushed.
The compliment was well deserved. Artfully designed by a landscape professor from UC Berkeley, the front and rear gardens at our newest listing in Elmwood are spectacular. Featuring a graceful landscape that includes a wisteria-covered arbor, fig, apple, and pomelo trees, herb garden, blooming ground cover, lush beds, bubbling Zen fountain, gas fire pit, and expansive deck, it’s easy to imagine the hours spent here with fresh lemonade and a good book. |
AuthorJulie Gardner, has been writing The Perspective for 18 years and has published more than 775 humorous but always informative, essays on life and real estate. 
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