And they say miracles don’t happen - the dream that started a year ago is about to take shape.  Yes, this week took me a giant leap closer to Chandlerville. 

First, there was a rundown old garage. It was such an eyesore I paid it no attention when we bought this place. Initially, it held a few of the previous owner's treasures and slowly, over six years, ended up full of appliances that Jack acquired - some new, in-the-box, ready for delivery, and others near death, awaiting Jack to perform CPR if a willing buyer emerged.   I entered that garage only a handful of times, beating back the cobwebs and recoiling at some of their bigger occupants. (note to self - blog about arachnophobia) 

That old garage, wood-sided and painted a forest green, formed a rustic backdrop to the overgrown raspberry and rhubarb patch.  I was so caught up in making the front yard as beautiful as I could, I gave only casual glances to the mess on the way to my car, parked on the laneway side of the garage.  

Jack, however, was much keener on the back of the property.  It pained him greatly that this house has no parking in front of the house, located as it is in the middle of an intersection.  Right from the get-go, he had a vision of a big garage on the rear laneway, a place where he could have a workshop and where one of us could park inside. We debated whose car would achieve that coveted spot, but we both knew it would be mine.  I suspect we equally imagined how, rather than digging out from snow, I would dig my car out from a pile of tools and appliance parts, given its proximity to his proposed workspace. 

With his cancer diagnosis in 2015, the garage/workshop combo seemed unlikely but two years later, with his health in a holding pattern, he sold his shop, using the proceeds to build the garage he longed for. 

We got the permit in December 2017 and the 20x20 structure went up in record speed. Jack’s feet were to the fire to meet the January 31, 2018 deadline when he had to be out of his shop.  The contractor very graciously agreed to finish the construction despite the 18x18 pile of stuff Jack salvaged from his shop and plonked in the middle of the not-quite-complete garage.   

As 2018 progressed, so did Jack’s cancer. He nonetheless oversaw the completion of the garage and the gazebo attached to it. We both watched with fascination while the muralist we commissioned, Pam Lostracco, made its exterior beautiful with its woodland scene.  Nothing pleased Jack more than seeing his vision take shape.  We joked about how I would likely turn it into a B&B when I was here alone. Because we both knew I would be here alone.  

Never once did we imagine it being my new house!

Like many big urban centres, Toronto has a housing shortage.  For the past 17 years, I have worked as a housing lawyer with clients who advocate for and provide affordable housing. Since Jack died, I’ve rattled around in a house that can easily accommodate a family of four or more (a family of five lived here for decades). I have felt overwhelmed with the number of rooms and since March 2020, I have been almost always here alone, using only the office, kitchen, and bedroom.  

So in October 2021, I started to rethink it all. I love this lot and my neighbourhood so moving didn’t feel right.  But with the City opening up options for infill housing like Laneway Suites and Garden Suites, the barometer seemed right to try to do something creative.  I emptied my still-full garage and downsized my own possessions, renovated my house for tenants, and got an architect to design the right space just for me.  I’ve written about many of these things as linked here and here but I’ve been deliberately coy about my architect’s design, not wanting to jinx my application for a laneway suite permit.  Today is the big reveal!

The City issued the permit this week and so we’re into the next stage.   The process of getting here has been brutal, taking years off my life. I know short staffing at the City has resulted in this project costing me more, as time is money, especially when interest rates are rising.  I’m embarrassed to say eventually I relied on connections to get my application to rise to the top of the pile.  I hated doing it - knowing as a former civic servant that the only thing more reprehensible would have been to get a politician’s attention.  But it worked.  Two days after sending the right email to the right retired City official, and here I am, permit in hand. 

I am excited as hell about this next phase. The construction will be painful and slow and costly.  But unlike the year of painful, slow, and costly progress, what happens now will result in evidence right in my backyard.  I will have a front row seat as my new home - Chandlerville, so dubbed by a friend  - takes shape.  

Chandlerville, however, is more than a physical structure. Chandlerville is a state of mind and I’m living there already.

Read more about Chandlerville - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, and Part 6.

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