Empty Houses, Lush Gardens

Long Beach Road in Centerville is labeled as a dead end, but it always brings my contemplative side to life.

The road veers off the main drag to Craigville Beach in Centerville and runs down the barrier beach, for a mile or so. It passes the very private Beach Club and dozens of beach mansions on the ocean side with more modest but still pricey summer homes on the river side. The Yawkey family (of the Red Sox) used to own a summer home down here that one of my teacher friends looked after. The availablity of deep water dockage makes the cluster of homes even more exclusive. Walking here, I always notice

that though large and lovely in design, most of the houses are styled to fit in a New England village—peaks, cedar shingles, and weathered wood fencing and only the number

and style of windows showing their mostly 20th century construction.

Yesterday almost all the homes were empty though there was a buzz of activity all along the road....landscapers galore orchestrating the lush gardens and lawns so that the owners can exclaim over them during the upcoming holiday weekend. Violet-blue hydrangeas, pink and red roses, and golden day lilies were in abundance everywhere I glanced. In one front yard, masons worked deliberately to dry set thick rectangular stones for a new semi-circular driveway. The far end was too muddy to work after last night's downpour, but their rubber mallets pounded the rosy colored cobbles into place, one at a time, into the drier sand and dirt. They looked and sounded happy to be working on such a hot day, down where the ocean breeze kept everything cool and pleasant.

I've always

wondered about the logic of owning a house (especially a large one on avulnerable coastal dune) in which a family lives for a month or two each year. Sometimes less. Seems that was a problem for some folks this year, t

oo....six or eight of the homes are for sale, more than usual for a given year. I have a friend who, when he sees big homes like these, always enters into an internal conversation where he wonders what he did wrong in

his life that he doesn't own property like this, as if these stately houses denote success. As if their very existence calls his own value into question. Funny that. I always wonder about the people inside—what makes them cry, what makes them happy, and what they had to sacrifice to end up here. What choices did they make over the years. And why did the house on the end have wood stacked for a year outdoors, warping in the weather, during recent renovations? And why have I never seen anyone on the private tennis courts? Lots of mysteries behind these beautiful facades.

But the best part of Long beach Road comes toward the end. Here the town long ago bought parcels for parking (about 8 cars in each of two small lots) with big “Town Way to Water” signs pointing to the public access. There's a narrow walkway across a manicured lawn in one spot and then the real treasure—at the very end of the road boardwalks lead to another mile or more of untouched barrier beach curving its way into the distance, accessible only by foot.

More about that special hideaway in a different post.