We were living in California before moving out to Colorado in a neighborhood that had a housing association. While I can appreciate the desire to ensure a stake in the property value of each home, the place where we were living was purchased as a HUD house. This stands for “Housing Under Development,” ranging from a “fixer upper,” or “a dump that needed repair,” in some cases. The house Ian bought was closer to “fixer upper,” but still had issues.
One issue being the lawn and yard. The lawn was dead when he bought the house. No sprinklers worked outside the house at all as they had been destroyed by the previous owner upon losing the house. I hand-planted that lawn back and nursed it to life with hose water for months after I moved in. Ian and I planted shrubs and manicured roses. We raised the tree with straps a little at a time. Sprinklers got fixed, drainage issues resolved over weeks of digging a channel in the mud ourselves. Ian was a ninja with the edger and lawn mower. The backyard was maintained.
Months turned into years, and years turned into some pretty scenic mornings with dew on grass, hummingbirds, the cats playing in the yard amongst the lilies of the Nile. None of which mattered to the HOA.
Letters, photos, harassment. We once received a letter about potted plants on the porch when the head of the HOA had potted plants on his porch.
I loath that HOA…