Mallard Pond
"A neighborhood where you can walk home at 1:00 in the morning, carrying your pants."
I don’t believe marketing materials for homes located in the Mallard Pond neighborhood in Philadelphia’s north suburban community of Montgomery Township have ever featured the tagline displayed above. But, they should.
When our family moved to the Philadelphia area more than twenty-five years ago, we settled into a home in the Mallard Pond development, in the northern reaches of Montgomery County, beyond the nexus of routes 309 and 202. I liked to suggest that our home was located about a 3-wood from Bucks County, but the reality of my golf game then, as well as now, is that it was likely five or six “duffed” 3-woods, followed by a few bungled 7-irons, concluding with a magnificent wedge, leaving it just a bit short, requiring a putt from several yards shy of the green (er, road - County Line Road, that is).
My wife has always had good instincts when it comes to identifying where we want to live in metropolitan areas to which we have relocated. And, Mallard Pond was a great choice for us. We had three young children at the time, and the neighborhood was chock-full of similar-aged kids, and similarly-positioned parents, except that they all talked funny - we were native Chicagoans, and Philadelphians have a unique accent and style all their own.
The house itself was a bit of a departure from our previous homes, in the Chicago suburbs - I had always felt that older homes lent character, and that was a desirable characteristic. This house was less than ten years old when we moved in, and, I have to say, character is overrated - modern conveniences, and space designed for current lifestyles actually make sense. And, we also enjoyed the swimming pool in the backyard, which, for those of you who have lived through Philadelphia Julys and Augusts, are an absolute must. Large lot sizes throughout the area yielded almost an acre of land for us; our lush, green lawn in May became a hayfield by August, scorched by the piercing Philadelphia summer heat.
One of the draws of Mallard Pond, for me, was the fact that there were mature trees, not only on the periphery of the neighborhood, but also throughout the properties. Many developers simply clear-cut all existing trees, and build a neighborhood from scratch, planting trees that will resemble actual trees in thirty or 40 years - much as infants begin to resemble actual humans in thirty or 40 years. And, our property had several flower beds, for which I was able to choose annual flower options each spring; some were successful - some not as successful - one year I planted red salvia, which bloomed quite nicely. I was also proud of my rosebushes. One spring, I planted two climbing rosebushes, anchored by trellises. The year I planted them, the bushes were healthy, and growing - but, zero blooms. By the next spring I was ready to yank them out, but they exploded that summer, producing hundreds of flowers - Rose Success! (a great name for a band, but, please take care not to pronounce it, “Rose’ Success” - that contains a very different interpretation - one more meaningful to California-based wineries).
And, natural gas, which we had become used to in Chicago, was a rare commodity in Philadelphia - the Mallard Pond neighborhood was not even plumbed for natural gas. Our home was heated with something called a “heat pump,” which simply means that cold air is distributed throughout the house, and you can never actually get warm inside your home. Many of my neighbors had installed an oil-driven backup heating system, which apparently provided warmth on those cold winter days, but we never got around to it.
Our neighborhood was located not far from several useful institutions, including the Montgomery Mall, a miniature golf complex and driving range, and a Rita’s Water Ice - we were frequent flyers at all three places.
Our children were also quite industrious with backyard activities, installing a zipline from a very tall tree at the rear of our property, and deploying a jungle gym, and a trampoline as tools in their daily adventures. I recall having a conversation with a neighbor, who, upon viewing these apparatuses (seems like it should be “apparati,” no?), remarked that we were an “insurance man’s dream.” We certainly had our fair share of Emergency Room visits, but I don’t recall ever appearing in insurance men’s dreams, either in credited roles, or in uncredited roles - I know: I searched the IMDB.com website, and. . .nothing.
For a time we had a Jack Russell Terrier in our household, named Oreo, who for some reason, we allowed to roam free outside. Oreo regularly terrorized the neighborhood, and at times found it necessary to lie down in the middle of the street, confounding drivers, and walkers, and joggers alike. A pair of joggers who regularly ran past our home were particularly annoyed with Oreo’s antics, and could be hearing yelling at him, and about him, each time they went past.
The school district was very strong, feeding into one of the largest high schools in the state, I believe: North Penn High School. Montgomery Township had a solid youth baseball program, and I enjoyed coaching my kids’ baseball teams. The kids also participated in soccer leagues, Suzuki violin training, and other requisite school and community-based activities.
We also discovered rock-climbing. Spurred by a class the boys had taken at a local climbing gym, we visited nearby Ralph Stover State Park many times to climb its natural rock formations. And, we took advantage of ski hills located in the Poconos, and joined a neighborhood ski trip to a Vermont resort.
My fond recollection of this neighborhood might be driven by timing - it was an important formative period in the growth and development of our family, and of our children. It might also be fueled by the fact that it was very nearly the place I died, and I appreciated the tremendous support from my neighbors during my recovery (link to the column containing that story here). . .
All in all, a solid neighborhood in which to raise a family, Mallard Pond. So, why isn’t that the promotional tagline I’m suggesting, rather than the one highlighted in the subhead? Well, I walked home at 1:00 in the morning, carrying my pants exactly once in the six years we lived there. The occasion was a rollicking pool party, which concluded with all of us exiting the pool, and walking home.
But, that was my takeaway: I want to live in a neighborhood where I can walk home at 1:00 in the morning, carrying my pants. When I’ve shared that desire with realtors, I’ve gotten some puzzled looks - they’re not sure how to begin the property search, with those marching orders. But, you understand, right?
Finally, I don’t believe that there was a pond of any sort in the Mallard Pond neighborhood, and I’m pretty sure that I would have remembered seeing a Mallard flying or floating within the confines of the neighborhood, and that’s not something I can ever recall seeing. Perhaps the promotional materials should reflect, “Mallard Pond: You’re not likely to ever encounter a Mallard in this neighborhood, and, in all honesty, there’s no actual pond here”
Nope, I’m going to stick with the “pants” thing.