When our Kansas home went on the market two years ago, we thoughtfully staged the house with the help of a professional. We didn’t necessarily agree with everything she asked us to do—taking out all our books and bookshelves, for instance—but we complied, putting excess furniture, family photos and excess décor into a rented storage unit.
Then our realtor suggested we fly an American flag every day.
“Buyers love that,” she said.
We took her word for it, dusted off the flag we normally flew only on national holidays, and slipped it into the rusty bracket by the garage door.
A week later we had a full-price offer on the house. In addition to the side-by-side refrigerator, our buyer asked for the American flag. It seemed a small price to pay.
“Sure, she can have it,” we said.
Now, two years later, we’re flagless and all of a sudden I’m feeling it. Until today, I hadn't once thought about replacing that flag. I didn’t even realize I missed Old Glory until John and I walked the dog this morning. Then, as star-spangled banners waved throughout the neighborhood, I got the flag fix I didn’t even know I needed.
Here are a few of the Flags o’ Topanga.
|Stars, strips and bougainvillea|
|Nothin' says freedom like a flag and pick-up truck.|
|Long may she wave.|
|Red, white, blue and green|
|I <3 the USA|
|The flag next door...|
|The one down the lane...|
|And the view from our deck.|