Design in the Age of “For Now, Forever”

It’s no secret that this isn’t a buyer’s market. As a result, you might be considering staying put for awhile. We certainly are. Why? Because as much as hot seller’s markets help maximize profits, they can also put homes you were previously eyeing just out of reach. This is before you address monthly costs that will never go away, no matter the market or your personal finances. Diamonds might be forever, but so are taxes and utilities. Remember that.

Don’t get me wrong. We love our current home, so the momentary decision to stay isn’t “settling,” and it’s also not taken without deep awareness of other, favorable alternatives. Hubs and I are ultimately pragmatists who’ve learned not to get too attached to anyone or anything else around us — and with good reason. It’s simple: the most powerful levers in anyone’s life, jobs and real estate, are finicky as heck, and no one has the control they’d like to believe they have over either of them.

The good news is that even in this reality, we do have some power over what happens. By this I mean that if we make the right choices, we can protect the future kinds of decisions we’ll make, no matter what circumstances surround us.

Relative to building a life in the places we call home, this means we can decide to love things… for now. We can decide to fix things… for now. We can decide to stay… for now. And if things change, however suddenly, we can decide to leave… you guessed it, for now. The strict dichotomy of “love it” or “list it” just isn’t fair or true. Someone better tell HGTV.

Which brings us back to the current market. What’s a homeowner to do — about homes, about life — in a wildly unpredictable time like this? Well, the honest answer is that I have absolutely no idea, but here’s one possiblity: strike a delicate balance between what strikes your fancy, and what might strike the fancy of the most number of others.

Yes, that’s as difficult as it sounds. Luckily, purchasing and living through the renovations of a charming suburban fixer has prepared us well for this way of life. It’s been a humbling, but ultimately love-filled experience. We do something, we take stock, we do something else, we take stock again. Nothing is forever, but everything could be. The reality of our “for now, forever” life is that we are both tethered and free, both kept and wild, both at home and away. It’s strife and success all wrapped up in one. And we love it.

Meanwhile, if you’re looking for ways to apply this strangely freeing mindset to your life or abode, here are some “current” ideas I’ve long-since loved, being someone who grew up in a place where these things are less often branded as “new and fashionable,” and more often beloved as “tried and true:”

(1) Color! More “traditional” colors, like greens (my favorite, favorite, favorite), yellows, blues, terra cottas, deep charcoals, and wispy creams are shoving “greige” out where it belongs, which is to say, in the fashion rearview. From pastels to super-saturated and more stately or refined, colors of all kinds are making a serious comeback and I! am! here! for! it!

(2) Texture! Ok, so I’d be lying if I said that my more minimalist self didn’t love part of the industrialist look that was oh-so au courant through the mid-late 2010’s. But it would never cut it as a lasting and intentional design aesthetic, at least not for me. Instead, give me all the textured carpets, textured window coverings, textured seating options! They demonstrate there’s more to life than stark urbanity, as defined by bare white walls, exposed beams and A/C ducts, and “dimensional wall art,” whatever that was…

(3) Nature! I’ve always been someone who’s wanted to bring the outdoors, in. As a child I preferred to play outside over anywhere else, and I try hard to honor the spirit of that girl as much as possible in my adult life. One of the ways I do this is by keeping little moments of nature tucked in surprising places, which is a technique that’s worked wonders everywhere from my first studio apartment to our current suburban sprawl. Give it a try!

Alright, those are my top three design picks for the age of “for now, forever.” Beyond the specificity of those choices, what makes me most excited about changing public tastes is the return to what I’ll call “natural joy.” Sure, I mean to the world of design, but I also mean to the world at-large. We’ve whitewashed, stripped, and quieted too many things in the name of “style” over the years. It’s about time more of us stepped up to fix that. And guess what, you already know how. You just have to make your home for yourselves, and keep doing that for as long as you want. After all, at least for now, it’s yours and no one else’s.

Welcome home, My Loves. For now and forever, welcome home.

Heritage Farm & Garden

In 2016, my heart broke. The only place on Long Island where I could go to clear my head, feel at home, and know that I was ok, closed. There was no more Martin Viette and I would never be the same. When I later found out that the 42-acre sprawl was scheduled for mixed-use redevelopment, I wanted to throw up, so instead I cried, and vowed never to go back to Muttontown. I simply couldn’t stomach seeing the place I loved turned into something so wrong. If you’ve ever been to this part of Long Island, you’ll know why. If you haven’t, then I encourage you to go, so you can discover that for yourself.

Four months later, my heart broke a little differently. While the commercial plans halted (thank you, Peconic Land Trust), the memory of Martin Viette would not last long either, because another garden center opened almost immediately on this hallowed ground. Don’t get me wrong. I was glad to see the land used in the way it was intended, but I was also worried that the new place would bastardize what made its predecessor so special, that it would be commercial in other ways.

For that reason, I refused to visit Heritage Farm & Garden for almost a year. Despite my own curiosity. Despite what I knew to be beautiful land. Despite my support for local business. Despite Husband’s best efforts to convince me otherwise. I know, I am stubborn. Especially when I am hurting. But, like any other rational being, eventually I can open my mind to other ways of thinking or doing things. And I did. That’s how I found myself at Heritage nearly a year after I swore I’d never go back. That was last fall.

Truthfully, I wasn’t confident I’d made the right choice. My throat closed up and my heart pounded as we pulled up the long drive. I was looking for something, anything, that remained from what once was. I didn’t have to look far. There was the big green lawn where we’d run wild with our dog in seasons past. There was the pen for small farm animals. There was the iconic grey barn, the old truck, and the gravel parking lot across the way. It was all still there. It had different branding. It had changed. But it was there. I let a big breath out and relaxed the tension I’d been carrying around for the past year. My “home visit” was done, it would be ok, and the world would keep turning.

Another year later, elsewhere in Nassau County, I felt that old familiar ache. The air grew crisp and the leaves blazed their first gold and crimson, heralding the start of fall. This season always makes me melancholy. There are loads of emotions and memories — most of them happy, but all of which make me want to go home. Since that’s not possible of late, I longed to be near the closest thing, out in the rolling hills of Muttontown. The longing came on intensely, and as suddenly as the seasons changed, so too did my heart. I knew it was time to go back to Heritage. Not just to visit, but to be there fully, to allow myself joy in our annual pilgrimage. It meant something again.

A brief aside, if you’ll permit: names have meaning. As defined by Merriam-Webster, heritage literally means “something transmitted by or acquired from a predecessor.” That can be something literal, as in land or a dwelling or an object. It can also be something bigger and harder to contain, like a legacy. A heritage is something of importance. It is both rooted and carried forward. It is a living, breathing thing. It is not stagnant. It does not disappear, even if it changes. It is borne of us all the time.

This is the case with Heritage Farm & Garden. The history of this place — and I don’t just mean the tax parcel on which its 42 acres sit — must be preserved and respected. But it must also be allowed a new life and legacy, new memories. And actually, allowed isn’t the right word. A heritage is something to be celebrated. That’s exactly what Husband and I intended to do as we hopped in the car, dog in tow, on this sunny Saturday afternoon. We celebrated.

I’m so glad we went. This time, heart fully open, I felt joy as we drove up its gravel path. I wasn’t alone in that feeling. On our approach, Dog shot up from her back seat snooze. She knew exactly where she was. When we opened the door to let her out a few moments later, it was clearly much too late for her liking. She pulled with such force in the direction of all things good that she missed at least one critical opportunity for admiration by children who, hands and bellies full of pumpkins and cider, could only cry out “puppy!” as she jettisoned her way up the parking lot.

She never misses chances like this. That’s just the level of excitement our family embraced this afternoon. We knew, instinctively, that there would be more doting children, and parents, and employees, through the gates. We remembered, though it had been quite some time, the popcorn-dropped paths, the field-spotted farm animals, the large pots and furniture practically made for peering around, the colorful plantings and garden decor freshly curated for the season.

After endless rounds of admiration for Dog, and one small garden flag for Husband and me, we made our way to the cashier, so that we could take this little piece of home, home with us. But, too bad (wink wink), it was there where we discovered our first true surprise from Heritage Farm & Garden. We’ll let you in on the secret. Lean in … listen real good … ready?

The treats have been moved to the outdoor check-out area. Do with this information what you will, but we’re warning you now that it means your seasonal food and beverage favorites are even closer than they were before. It also means that we ultimately walked away with a flag, a decorative pumpkin, a bag of cider donuts, a half gallon of apple cider, and three very full hearts this afternoon. What can you do? Self-restraint isn’t a thing when fall favorites are around.

And I’m glad.

I’m glad there’s still a place where I can go to be at home on Long Island.

And I’m glad that place is Heritage Farm & Garden.

To many, many happy years, family.

We’ll see you soon.

***

P.S. Want to find out more about Heritage? Try their website! You’ll find all sorts of information about their shop and seasonal offerings, like Fall Festival, which runs now ’til October 28th. Or perhaps you’re searching for garden advice? They’ve got that too — head over to their blog.

For an outside perspective, the Syosset Jericho Tribune did a lovely write-up about Heritage’s continued history. Adding to this narrative, with a bit more information about the family who owns it, is an article from the Long Island Press.

Like what you see so far? Give them some love on Facebook (@heritagefng), Instagram (@heritagefarmgarden), or better yet, go visit. The staff are super friendly, and they welcome kids and pets. Yes, they actually like when you bring your dog.

Cue your grammable moment in 3…2…1….

Heritage Farm & Garden

6050 Northern Boulevard

Muttontown, NY 11732

The Surprising Power of Pinterest

Pinterest is my favorite (anti)social media platform. I love to vision, to collect, to create. And I love to revision, recollect, and recreate. Pinning allows me to do what I do best: be in progress. And with that approach, the applications are truly endless.

These days, I use it mostly for home inspiration and visioning our lives forward. Those of you who’ve followed me on this or previous journeys know that Husband and I live partly between two worlds. We dream of living fully in both of them. A predicament. We aren’t there yet, and may not be for awhile, but until then, Pinterest allows us to move closer in spirit. And I don’t just mean toward our goals.

Husband and I are first-time homeowners. A couple years back, we bought a beautiful “fixer” in a place many people would love to live. The neighborhood is super-established and actually, I’m still shocked they let us buy here, because it’s one of those places where families spend generations in the same home.

When we closed, we knew we had years — maybe even decades — of work ahead of us. It was a challenge we took on fully and with love. In the relatively short time since, it’s already seen some massive changes. The house breathes again and with each project, it grows stronger. That brings our hearts such joy. But the process hasn’t always been easy.

For as much as Husband and I are well-suited, we are also very, very different. I’m the extrovert to his introvert. I’m the free spirit to his rule seeker. I’m the explorer to his homebody. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Still, building a home together — especially when you approach it as restorative like we do — can be challenging.

We have all the difficult time, budget and style discussions most couples do. But we have them twice over, once for our lives in his home and once for our lives in mine. Finding balance is really hard, and as we’ve discovered, so is moving from the theoretical to the concrete. They don’t teach you about home renovation or how to build the perfect bi-state lifestyle in school or in pre-cana.

Lucky for us, Pinterest helps fill the gap. It allows us to daydream, search, and ultimately plan for the lives we want to construct, in a process that’s as healthy and iterative as our actual lives. The importance of that gift cannot be overstated. Sure, we have these big, sometimes impossible-feeling dreams, but with a little help from crowdsourcing and my love for organization, we’re beginning to find that some of those dreams are (dare I say it?) becoming a reality. In celebration of that milestone, I offer this ode to Pinterest and the joy-filled life it helps us build together. Here we go. Pinterest, thanks for giving us the push we needed to:

(1) Replace pining with pinning. For the longest time, I had zero faith that we could afford to build a life in New York. Then we found our neighborhood and our house found us. Part of that was our stellar realtor, and part of that was my by-then obsessive pinning. Before we knew what we were looking for, Pinterest helped us narrow our list of “must haves” and “nice ifs” down to something manageable. The result was really close to the place we call home.

Recently, we outgrew unflattering pining of another variety. As we started to feel that familiar itch, it was reassuring to know that we could replace the pine with a pin … or two … or, I believe, 55. But who’s counting? In all seriousness, no matter where this road takes us, with any luck we’ll end up just as happy, in a completely different way, in the not-too-distant future.

(2) Build on tradition for the modern age. Our home was built a hundred years ago — really. That was part of what drew us to the house. Two other families, and three generations, called it home before us, and in some ways it showed. Lime green paint from the ’70s? Check. All over the house? Check. Early 1900s tile adhered directly to plaster walls in the bathroom, with no hope for removal except by professionals? Check.

Needless to say, we have some work to do. But we don’t want to lose the character and charm of our home in the process. So, keep the picture railing and vaulted ceilings? You bet. Pick neutrals that are both easy on the eye and get the historical stamp of approval? Of course.

We aren’t rolling in dough, so we won’t be hiring an interior designer, but we absolutely can pin away to our hearts’ content. Things like paint colors, period pieces, and old blueprints for similarly-styled Dutch colonials? They’re all there, alongside plans for the renovated kitchen, bathrooms, and garage we hope to one day have. Part of the joy in owning an older home is adding your page to its long history of style. But in our case, first we needed to ….

(3) Arrive at a common style. I tend to be more casual and minimalist. Husband tends to favor things more formal and traditional. When we first got married, we lived in this insanely small apartment in the city and there wasn’t much to argue about, because not much would fit in the space.  When we bought our house, that changed.

Suddenly, as we started to fill rooms, it became clear that we weren’t on the same page. Trips to the store or online shopping weren’t fun, they were torturous for both of us. Part of that was the struggle to imagine individual pieces in rooms with barely anything else in them. And part of that was that we didn’t want to admit we weren’t seeing eye-to-eye.

When we’d had enough of that charade, Pinterest was there for us yet again. I pinned things I thought I’d like, things I thought he’d like, and led weekly reviews each Sunday. Over brunch and every single show on the Food Network, we kept what worked and culled what didn’t. And guess what? A style emerged. I think designers call it “contemporary coastal.” We call it a miracle.

I recognize that Pinterest didn’t do this for us. However, it made our process of home-making a lot easier than it would’ve been otherwise. Checking to see if something  meshes with the vibe? Yep, we did that. Searching for an image of something your loving partner can’t quite visualize in the space? Yep, we did that. Wishing we had done so before rushing out to buy something that ultimately didn’t work? Yep, we did that too.

While all this was going on — and yes, it was a lot — Husband and I didn’t even realize that something else, something far more important was happening. Sure, we respectfully refreshed the house, but we also refreshed our relationship. Our marriage was strong beforehand, but this process taught us how much more learning and growing we could do together. Frankly? That’s what marriage is about. Did we need that reminder? Hell yes.

Now, nearly two years, hundreds of pins, and what feels like endless home improvement projects later, we sit in our living room and enjoy each other’s company, taking in the progress we’ve made. And while one of us occasionally asks how we’ve managed to do it all, by the time Sunday rolls around, we both remember. The secret to making home is right beside us, and has been all along. It’s us, with a little help from Pinterest.