Infill housing? Not in my backyard
We live in a decentsized section in Palmerston North city. It’s a back section, so a good chunk of that is driveway, but since the footprint of our house is not big, there is plenty of lawn to mow, and space for a vegetable garden.
When the kids were young, there was space to kick a ball, throw a frisbee, and have water fights on a rare hot day.
The kids even constructed their own mountain bike track around the front yard, destroying the garden along the way.
These days, it’s less busy outside, but my wife and I still enjoy the space, growing some natives, exotics and veges, and composting waste from the cafe.
Excess fruit and veges, and even compost, gets given to friends and neighbours. A seasonal glut of fruit is made into jam when time allows, and most of that is given to friends.
If we ever had to be selfsufficient in food, we could go close for some of the year, although I’d have to get my fix of dairy from someone with a cow.
The big family-friendly section is one reason that, as exSydneysiders, we decided to call Palmerston North home. It has been, looking back, a great place to raise our kids.
Around us now, though, nearly all the other larger sections have been dissected and redeveloped to contain two modern houses. Some have been trisected, or more.
But when you look at our house on Google Maps, our roof is one of the smaller ones in the suburb, while our section is larger than average. The footprint of recently built houses is much bigger, and the concrete driveway and parking pad make up the rest of the section.
So, the old quarter-acre sections in town often now have two houses with a quarter-acre of roof and concrete driveway between them. With no garden to soak up rain, it’s not just climate change that’s increasing flash flooding and river water quality issues.
These new houses have just enough room down the side to move awheelie bin or access the power box. Goodness knows what the kids of the house will do when they are not at school. They can only shoot so many hoops on the obligatory basketball ring nailed to the front of the obligatory double garage.
Perhaps kids now just play video games in the obligatory entertainment room? Anyway, they won’t be learning to bunnyhop theirBMX in the front yard. Backyard rugby? Nah.
And growing veges in these infill houses would be a seriously challenging pastime, although I have seen clever people make good use of pots and the warm micro-climate that a steel fence and a concrete pad can produce. Even those people need to buy feijoas.
There is currently a great kerfuffle about the magnitude of proposed rates rises for some residents. In our case, we are looking at an increase of about 20% because of the perceived increased value of our land.
It has risen in value, I’m guessing, because of the potential to make money by dividing the section and building another house.
City councils love this sort of development, because they will get two lots of rates where there was previously one. And they don’t have to spend that extra money earned on the footpath or roadway out the front. For them, it’s money for jam.
However, from where I’m sitting, we are being penalised by the council for owning a biggish section. It feels like the rate rise is a deliberate move to force us to subdivide and contribute to the infill housing solution.
When presented with my new rates invoice, the question will be: ‘‘What extra value or service am I getting from council for that extra $900 per year you are asking me to pay?’’
I’m pretty sure they’ll not be able to answer that. Nor will they have thought through the consequences of rampant infill on the environment, the neighbourhood, let alone a play space for future generations. We are, after all, only custodians of the land for the present, and once the green space is gone, it’s gone.
In a city with population growth, there must be many other solutionswhich provide for a dwelling to be built. Just not inmy backyard.
But, meanwhile, I’ll have to sell my jam to pay for the rates increase.