As I sit at my desk this misty morning, I contemplate a view that never gets old. We sited our house at the brow of a north-facing hill so we could overlook the three ranches below us. As far as I can see, there are only long reddish grasses, limestone tumbling down the hills dotted with stunted cedar trees, and at the bottom, lines of leafless oak trees defining the expanse of grazing fields all the way to distant blue mesas. Black dots of cattle bunch near the trees, and often I espy a line of grayish-brown does walking the nearer fence-line, as they relocate from bedding place to Lucy Creek. In the spring, the shorter greener grasses take over and the oak trees form lumpy green bands separating the herds. It’s not so cold this morning and it’s still. Later, the winds will pick up, and we’ll be buffeted with frigid gusts barreling up the slope, but it’s worth it, for this view defines “open concept.”
My husband and I dreamed of relocating someplace like this for decades, as we dedicated our lives to careers in a busy metropolitan area. We loved the work, but even more enjoyed coming home to our suburban neighborhood with its easy friendliness and informality. Most of us were young professionals, called “DINKS” those days, meaning “Dual Income, No Kids.” We never intended to stay so long there, eager, like many, to climb the realty train to riches. But once there, we realized no amount of added equity could replace neighbors we called friends. But time changes all things and after 29 years, we were ready to relocate here.
Back in our old neighborhood, the houses were still there, but ongoing waves of fashion changed much of the orignial look, as did maturing landscaping. New exterior colors were the first revision. Bronze multi-paned metal windows with heavy drapes slowly changed over to larger white vinyl windows with white wooden shutters, wood shingled roofs were covered with shake-looking metal, and even a few large front porches popped up, moving socializing out front, rather than hidden behind high-fences in back. Inside, there were even more changes, as the term “open concept” took hold and interior walls were shamelessly ripped out to form large informal spaces. The kitchen, as usual, was the center of most renovations, with refrigerators becoming even bigger, boasting multiple doors and drawers, and even microwaves began to come in drawer-form. Out went the large nubby ceramic tile, to be replaced with slabs of heavy granite, and chunky ceramic and black lab-type farm sinks replaced the tinny metal sinks. I often watch HGTV, and the requirements for house-hunters became a standard litany of “open concept, real hardwood floors, crown moulding, stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, in-suite bathrooms, and large walk-in closets.” We certainly have raised the bar for requirements since our parents’ time, when having wall-to-wall carpet and a real breakfast bar constituted “up-scale.”
Despite the unashamedly-high expectations of even first-time buyers, I like the changes to a more informal and functional floor plan. Family members coming home from work and school can really interact as everyone gravitates to the huge kitchen island. No one retreats to a den (yes, I know teenagers retreat to their rooms, but more on this to follow.) The cook is no longer isolated from the action and more of the family participate in this function too. Television is still ubiquitous, but no longer relegated to a theater-like setting in the living room, but hung on the wall wherever one wants, or shrunk down to tablet-size format on the counter or someone’s lap.
There are drawbacks, of course, to open-concept. Noise control is the number-one problem, with few walls baffling the sound, and hard surfaces replaced carpet and drapes, so reverberation makes speech almost unintelligible. Using headphones for music, gaming, and television overcomes some of the problem, particularly from competing sources, but there is further need to add soft sound-absorbent materials for non-headphone time. Secondly, many of those demolished walls had closets or space to butt-up cabinets and bookshelves. Storage has become quite the industry as a direct result, and today’s furniture is more multi-purpose, with drawers, shelves, and cubbies tucked inside. I’ve even begun to see do-it-yourself plans for built-ins again, after they languished in the last century. The accompanying problem no one likes to admit, is having to put all those things back in their place, so clutter is constant. And lastly, privacy is now reserved for the bedrooms, unless one counts sitting side-by-side on the couch wearing headphones. But, funny enough, as the expectation grew that every person in the house have their own bedroom, if not suite, this is a balance. I seriously wonder if we’ll continue to call them “bedrooms” much longer, since these spaces are also multi-purpose and the house moves closer to “boarding house” usage with individual rooms and common spaces. Not only have we empowered our children with their own space in the nuclear family, but made it easier living for the more numerous non-traditional family. If there is anything that reflects societal changes, it is the space we call home.