House No. 6

(No MLS; house for sale by owner)

This afternoon, Akash and I found a rarity: a house in the city, complete with magic.

Let us start from the outside and work our way in, up and back. House No. 6 is a Sears & Roebuck craftsman cottage, built in 1925, with an addition in the '40s. It has a teeny front yard, "the size of a postage stamp," as Alcott wrote of Meg and John Brooke's Dovecote. Said postage stamp has been mulched and planted with hardy species that would withstand winter's cold, summer's heat and Cole's black thumb. The porch is open and wide; it's the kind of porch you put Jack o' lanterns or tubs of mums on. Definitely room for a swing or dumpy wicker chairs.

Inside the yellow-painted foyer is open and welcoming. There's a spot just right for the piano, and another for me to place my much-desired take-off-your-muddy-shoes-and-store-them-here bench. To the right is a grey room for our cherry-red couch and TV. To the left is the staircase, which has sweet, scalloping details along the sides. Upstairs are two bedrooms, tucked under the sloping roof. One is painted light green and is small, but breathable. The second is wee, with a bed tucked under the eaves. It would be good for a guestroom, or office, or nursery. In between is a full bathroom with a claw-foot tub. Granted, the roof slopes so much at this point that one could not stand to take a shower in said tub, but there's another bathroom downstairs that we'll get to in a moment, which would accommodate that need. There are dear little doors that access the space under the eaves, for storage, though I would call one To Narnia and the other To Bag End.

Back downstairs, through the foyer, is the dining room, with a reading nook in the corner. To the right is the rose-painted kitchen, replete with gas stove, dishwasher, island, fridge, and space for a teeny table if that's what we desired. Behind the dining room is the purple bathroom, which is large enough that half of it acts as a laundry room.

Off the kitchen is a closet for the water heater and other mechanical necessities. The backdoor opens onto a screened-in porch, which leads onto a sandstone patio. Two bright-pink crepe myrtles arch over the end of the patio. And then comes the recently seeded grass. The yard is fenced in, and the current owner's yellow lab showed how much a big dog could like it.

This house is comfortable and charming, like a woman advanced enough in age to feel wholly at home in her own skin and who has the grace to love and envelop all of those around her.The house is in a safe, quiet part of Belmont. We have friends in the neighborhood, and could walk or bike to work. The restaurants and coffee house Belmont is famous for are within walking distance, but far enough away that we won't have to deal with the drunk hipsters spilling out of The Local or Mas at 2 in the morning. Walking around West Street last night, I told Akash I would be a bit uneasy asking either set of parents to stay overnight at House No. 5. No such qualms for House No. 6, though we'd have to warn them to duck at the top of the stairs.

We liked it very, very much. However, so do four other potential buyers, though the current owner didn't seem quite taken with any of their offers. So we're going to have a go at it, and see if we can come up with something more suitable. Sounds like the poetry part of house-seeking is already over, and we're in for a great, long chunk of prose.

(If you'd like to see a slide-show of House No. 6, e-mail me at my g-mail account, and I'll forward.)