By Bill Primavera Is anyone here old enough to remember the song “Artificial Flowers” by Bobby Darin? It was probably the most miserable song ever recorded, about a little orphan girl who survived by making artificial flowers from silk, wire

By Bill Primavera It is impossible for me to dull the memory of that nightmarish middle-of-the-night experience when my wife Margaret awakened me and told me that she had had a dream that a man was in our bedroom, looking

By Bill Primavera It is a different story today to become a homeowner from former generations, both in terms of age and income. The typical homebuyer today is older than ever, as well as wealthier, new data shows. The average

By Bill Primavera When I lived in Brooklyn Heights, I never thought I’d want to leave the place covered with cement, where the subway constantly rumbled directly under my historic home. First-time visitors would always register great alarm when the

By Bill Primavera Autumn in the garden and yard can be the most gratifying time of year. Deciduous trees and perennials start to yawn, preparing for a long winter’s sleep, accompanied by that sweet smell that comes from plants releasing

By Bill Primavera When I first arrived in New York City straight from college graduation, my older brother had kindly offered to drive me and my things there in my jalopy of a car that I figured I wouldn’t be

By Bill Primavera A few weekends ago, I suggested to my wife that we might consider going “antique-ing,” by visiting shops in nearby Cold Spring. She looked at me as though I had suggested a trip to the moon. I

By Bill Primavera When I could afford my own apartment in New York (actually in that charming neighborhood of Brooklyn Heights), one of my first purchases, following a Danish Modern sofa that also served as my bed, was an inexpensive

By Bill Primavera When my wife and I were lucky enough to buy our first home at a young age in a halcyon world, we were in our mid-20s and the very epitome of eager beavers, always up for something

By Bill Primavera When I was a little boy, around 10 or 11, I developed a passion for gardening. We lived in Viginia in a modest bungalow that looked like every other house in the track, originally developed during World