Who wouldn't want to have their own terrace? You'd sit there, perched above the Avenues, gazing down on the matchbox taxis with a cool glass of Pinot Grigio on a hot summer night. Sigh.
But just so you know...it's not all white wine and spectacular views. Most buildings have clauses written into their shareholder agreements that stipulate the building can access your terrace at will, to fix a leak, to build a scaffold, to make a little extra scratch by skimming a percentage off the top of unnecessary construction. That last one isn't in the building rules, but you better believe it happens.
And when it does, it's the terrace owner's obligation to prepare the terrace for occupation.
Large trees must be moved, furniture stored, irrigation interrupted and re-laid. It can be hair-raising, especially if old containers are involved. Old containers that might have rotted underneath. No way to know till you lift it, at which point the weeping cherry may or may not push through the rotted wood, leaving you with a naked root ball and no place to put it.
Fortunately, that was not the case this morning. Well-prepared terrace owners, a helpful building staff, and me (basically pointing and saying, move this here, move that there). It all went as smooth as silk. Sigh.
But just so you know...it's not all white wine and spectacular views. Most buildings have clauses written into their shareholder agreements that stipulate the building can access your terrace at will, to fix a leak, to build a scaffold, to make a little extra scratch by skimming a percentage off the top of unnecessary construction. That last one isn't in the building rules, but you better believe it happens.
And when it does, it's the terrace owner's obligation to prepare the terrace for occupation.
Large trees must be moved, furniture stored, irrigation interrupted and re-laid. It can be hair-raising, especially if old containers are involved. Old containers that might have rotted underneath. No way to know till you lift it, at which point the weeping cherry may or may not push through the rotted wood, leaving you with a naked root ball and no place to put it.
Fortunately, that was not the case this morning. Well-prepared terrace owners, a helpful building staff, and me (basically pointing and saying, move this here, move that there). It all went as smooth as silk. Sigh.
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