That House on Vine Street
by Kathleen Everett

In Mr Pine's Purple House, a children's book first published in 1965 and reprinted by popular demand, the protagonist is faced with a dilemma few of us have encountered but should mull over just in case. In a street of 50 look-alike white houses, he struggles to identify his own. His attempts to differentiate it by planting a tree, then a bush, are met with matching plantings by every neighbor. Desperate to set it apart from the others, and perhaps to avoid a breaking and entering charge, Mr. Pine paints his house purple. This time individuality prevails, and before you can say "zoning board of appeals," the homes on Vine Street are sporting all the colors of the rainbow. A charming story with an equally charming and consensual ending.

If only.

The most popular exterior paint colors haven't changed much in the last half century despite Mr. Pine's influence. Here in the Northeast a subdued palette predominates: grays, colonial blues, classic white, beige, browns, pale yellow and natural stain are perennial favorites. Many homeowners feel it should remain that way. Others, not allowing convention to limit their palette, boldly display their favorite hues for all the world to see and admire.

Or not.

The degree of passion that can be stirred up along with a can of paint is impressive. If you suspect this is overstating it, do some research. Paint your house tangerine, plant an audio bug in your neighbors' den, invite me over because I love this kind of thing, and wait. Communities from sea to shining sea have hosted enormous controversies arising from homes painted in extraterrestrial hues, with charges ranging from "your house is decreasing my property value" to "restricting my color choice is racial and cultural discrimination."

So what does the law have to say about all this? Not a word, actually. I plodded through the New York State laws regarding home exteriors, item by decimal pointed item. For brevity's sake, a summary: Keep it maintained, eliminate the hazards, avoid rodent harborage (section 302.5), and keep that lawn under ten inches. My source in the capital who spoke on condition of anonymity told me that Mr. Spitzer doesn't care if your house is fuschia, as long as you remember to vote blue.

Thinking it might be different on a local level, I narrowed my search to the Hudson Valley. Phone calls and meeting with a random sampling of code enforcement officers from towns and villages in northern Dutchess and southern Columbia counties came up with few restrictions. What follows is a typical exchange.

Me: "Hello, I'm writing etc. …"

C.E.O.: "Do we have color restrictions? Nope, in this town anything goes. And if you don't believe me, just drive on over to — and you won't believe your eyes. We get calls all the time about it, but there's nothing we can do. I tell callers, 'If you don't like it, move to a condo.'"

But before you pick up that paintbrush, check to make sure there are no deed restrictions on your property. Instituted when an area is developed, these are requirements over and above those imposed by law. Specifications can include approved house colors, type of driveway, siding materials, what you can park and where. Also known as CC&R's, (covenants, conditions and restrictions), these rules state what one can and cannot do with and on the property. While not law, and not enforceable by local authorities, this is a contract whose intent is to ensure a uniform appearance and protect property values. If you purchase a property with a restrictive covenant you are beholden to comply. If you do not, your homeowners' association can file a suit against you to force you to correct your evil ways. Has this happened? Yes. Who wins? Depends how you define victory. But in the spirit of fairness, rather than incite civil war and destroy the harmony of your neighborhood, abide by the contract you signed, or move. The ageless lesson in deed restrictions, of course, is caveat emptor. Even the most mentally solid among us risks destabilization upon discovering after a back-breaking week on a ladder that, in fact, chartreuse is not on the list of colors approved by the neighborhood association.

And why limit your self expression to house color, anyway, when there is so much amazing lawn art out there waiting for a good home? Driving past homes in the Hudson Valley offers a buffet of visual entertainment, offerings from the dwellers within to inspire, amuse or impress passersby.

"Things are beautiful if you love them," said the French playwright Jean Anouilh, in what is arguably the simplest take on the issue. And few among us would deny a person's right to express creativity in their living space. That is, of course, on the inside. It's another matter entirely when that creative enthusiasm spills out the front door into the yard and becomes the focal point upon which the eyes of the neighborhood rest.

The rub, of course, is that despite all our scientific advances, beauty remains stubbornly affixed in the eye of the beholder. What makes some squeal in admiration may send you running for the Maalox. What one calls elegant sophistication another declares hopelessly unimaginative. Perhaps those of us in glass houses shouldn't be throwing gnomes. Engaging in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we will daily encounter fellow citizens doing the same. Having chosen to live in a community of individuals we must be prepared for the occasional reminder. Unlikely though it is, someone driving by my house today may even have thought to himself, what was she thinking?

In the ongoing struggle to embrace tolerance, we provide each other plenty of opportunity to hone our skills. If the possibility of living next door to Mr. Pine fills you with dread, you might consider living in a community with restrictions to protect your aesthetic values. If the rainbow is the limit for you when it comes to house color, make sure that's within your rights.

And if you find yourself on Vine Street, do stop by for a cup of green tea.