We settled here some 47 years ago. The half-acre property sitting in the middle of an urban area gave us all we needed: space for our two cats and two dogs. And it would ultimately give us the place where we would acquire and say good-bye to more cats, dogs. . . . among them our 7 beloved Newfoundlands, 5 mutts, 1 Shih Tzu, 8 cats, 3 or 4 rabbits, approximately 15 chickens, a flock of Australian Finches, one unbelievably brilliant Conure named Paulina, 2 ducks, a recovering turkey, and a little lamb who never stood up to greet life. It would give us a place to remodel numerous times as our tastes changed. The upstairs bedroom became a den and then a bedroom again when we rescued Alba, then 14, from forced return to Nicaragua. After she left, it became a den again only to return as a bedroom for Alba’s boys, Eyad and Omar, and then, later for Eyad and his friends from med school. The kitchen, once a small box that kept me away from others, was opened. The upstairs windows, once tiny and aluminum were expanded and trimmed with warm wood. The upstairs deck became a large terrace with stairs down to our half-acre, always in progress, garden.
The 2200 square foot home resembled a mix between Godzilla and Frank Lloyd Wright. Large overhangs protected the square brick home. The home had a master bedroom on the upper level, a living room, fireplace set on the floor, gold shag carpet, a small bathroom, a walk-out deck, and an orange-colored kitchen. The lower level contained three small bedrooms, a laundry room, a standard size bathroom by mid-century design ethic and an efficient family room that opened onto a patio.
My mother, critic that she was, couldn’t understand what drew us to the house. It was, in fact, ugly. I knew that but wouldn’t admit it. What drew us was the ½ acre. In 1977, the property had 4 large Cottonwood trees that remained from the property’s earlier existence as a horse farm. (Over the years, we’d dig up a new garden plot only to discover iron horseshoes.) There was nothing in the front but small rocks. A carport was connected by overhead beams from the house. Immediately south of the upstairs deck and downstairs patio was a large, healthy Austrian Pine. The west side of the home featured a large planting of Juniper pfitzers that housed mice, voles and smelled like urine every time it rained. In the back of the property a matching playhouse had been built. And directly across from the playhouse was a berm that featured a Scotch pine and three Aspen trees.
The first job was to make the house safe for the dogs, so we fenced the half acre. In 1977 it cost $10,000. We tore out the gold shag carpet and replaced it with wall-to-wall grey plush carpet. We planned to focus on the landscape before we gutted the interior.
We hired the renowned landscape architect, Jane Silverstein Ries who, incidentally, was the first woman to receive a landscape architect license in Colorado. She had designed our neighbor’s garden and she had something rather unique in mind for ours. We would have an outdoor forest complete with a “spinny” . . . a copse of trees. The initial landscaping was installed and covered the fenced areas with trees and bushes designed to make sure we had complete privacy from our neighbors. Our western view, once of the mountains, was overtaken by three majestic Blue Spruce. Well, not so majestic when planted as 6 ft. saplings. We didn’t miss the view simply because the Front Range of Colorado is ubiquitous. One only has to step into the street to check it out.
Once the garden was planned, we turned our minds to the interior of the house. By that time, we had five cats who had taught us the perils of wall-to-wall carpet. We tore it out to replace it with oak floors. Our biggest complaint, though, was lack of access to the garden from anywhere but the ground floor den. We added stairs off the upstairs balcony that would permit easier entry to the garden. Then, we attacked the ugly aluminum windows and sliding glass doors upstairs and replaced them with large, wooden framed apertures and French doors.
At last, we could imagine what this property would look like.
At some point, we acquired two domestic ducks. And, they needed a pond. I explained to GB that an emergency pond had to be built and we hired laborers to dig it. They kept digging and digging and when the hole was completed, it was 27 feet long, 12 feet wide in spots and 3 feet deep. The ducks, Maynard and Elwood were ecstatic about their residence. And, so were other critters who came to visit: wild ducks, squirrels, birds, skunk, raccoon, fox, coyote, vultures, and herons.
Happier yet was our first Newfoundland, Max who joined the family a few years after the pond construction. He loved it and he demonstrated his natural abilities for rescue. He rescued the ducks endlessly until we realized we had to rehome Maynard and Elwood. By that time, they were a bonded couple and went to a duck rescue in nearby Lakewood. They stayed there until they died. Happy ducks. Always free.
Air. 
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