SOLD! I know Amherstivew reasonably well. When I first arrived in Canada, and after a less than blissful few months in Mississauga, my parents bought a house on Manitou Crescent that they still live in. I remember that the lake froze early that year (1980)
SOLD! Balsam Grove is a sweet little subdivision tucked in next to Grenville Park, west of Portsmouth Avenue. The Rideau Trail delineates the western limit of the neighbourhood. The topography is interesting in here, and the trees are mature and varied.
SOLD! Alright, here we go. It’s a one-bedroom ground-floor condominium just a modest bus ride from downtown. Time enough to check your calendar on your phone and your faint, perfectly coiffed reflection in the window.
Sold. 2130 CORDUKES RD. I like the land north of the city, always have. The thin skins of tussocky grass stretched over the rock. And those green horizons of scrub spruce spiked up like some punk hairdo.
SOLD. You’re downtown, in a very sweet detached and renovated bungalow with parking out front and a small, private yard behind. The ceilings are sky-high and the new floors shine.
SOLD. I’m up early. Everyone else is still asleep and the house is quiet. There are birds outside, warning each other to seek cover; the heavy rain is coming. If I concentrate I can make out the early traffic thrumming over the causeway, and the garbage truck up by now on Montreal St.
SOLD. The seller here has a pretty fantastic bicycle. Which I know is likely the wrong way to begin a real estate pitch; I’ll lose you before I even get going. But hold on a sec. You should have seen it. This marvellous machine was leaned nonchalantly against its stand...
It’s a bungalow, 1120 Acadia is, and I suppose one day I might be looking for one of these myself. Much as I love my two-and-a-half-storey downtown I reckon I’ll have a hard time making it to the top at some point (damn it) ...
SOLD. I list houses all over and I’m happy to do it. I visit perfectly lovely properties in spots I just couldn’t see myself living in. I don’t see the harm in admitting that; it doesn’t mean I won’t do a bang-up job of selling your pale blue elevated bungalow on its deeded corner of a farmer’s flat field.
SOLD. I looked west, over the white-on-white winter expanses of Dog Lake, a scant twenty minutes north of Kingston. This was just a few days ago. Cheri and I were out at this ridiculously lovely property to check on the final listing preparations.