Dear Meadow House,

I am wise to your ways. I have watched you sashay into our lives and lure my husband with your sleek lines, galvanized hardware and maddeningly fabulous SIPS panels. We used to talk about life, family, this and that – my husband and I. But now all I hear is glu-lams, footings, electrical chases, call-outs, pump trucks, window schedules and over budget.

Don’t think I’m not aware of what’s going on when he skirts out of the house with nary a glance backward, calling “I’m going to the site to do some work.” You have succeeded in beguiling him with your promise of modern living in an extremely well sited house with radiant-floor heating. This is true. But enough already. I want my husband back!

You are empty, Ms. Meadow House. Empty! And you will never know the real meaning of love until you are filled with the sounds and routines, the messes and surprises of a family.


His wife