Maxine Taylor renovated a dilapidated stable to make her home… (Baltimore Sun photo by Amy…)
Maxine Taylor thought she was being "green" by using wood chips instead of asphalt for a driveway on her woodsy front yard in Butchers Hill. The chips happen to let rainfall soak through into the ground, stopping a little of the storm-water pollution that's plaguing Baltimore's harbor.
But instead of winning praise from a City Hall officially committed to a "cleaner, greener Baltimore," Taylor was cited for violating the city's building and zoning codes with her woody driveway. When she appealed the citation, she said, an administrative law judge informed her the only way she could keep vehicles on her property would be on asphalt or concrete.
Taylor's been parking on neighborhood streets since then, and she worries about walking to and from her Saturn in the dark. She paid her $35 fine - knocked down from $66. But she's balking at paving her urban oasis.
"You remember the song [that goes], 'They paved paradise'?" Taylor said, referring to Joni Mitchell's environmental anthem, "Big Yellow Taxi." "That's in my blood."
Taylor's stand draws sympathy and support from environmental activists and neighborhood leaders, who note that Baltimore is spending tax dollars to remove pavement elsewhere in the city in an effort to help clean up the harbor and the Chesapeake Bay. But the city's building and zoning codes haven't caught up with the latest thinking on greening communities.
"This is the kind of trap we're in," says Guy W. Hager of the Parks & People Foundation, a local nonprofit dedicated to enhancing open space in Baltimore's neighborhoods. While many now see the need to reduce the amount of pavement funneling trash and pollution into the harbor, Hager says, the city's laws and regulations do not allow property owners to use gravel, wood chips or other similarly porous materials for driveways, sidewalks and parking pads.
"It's simply another example of Baltimore City officials making the city a difficult place to live," says Barry Glassman, president of the Butchers Hill Association. He calls Taylor a good environmentalist and the city's action against her "totally ridiculous."
Cheron Porter, spokeswoman for Baltimore Housing, which enforces the city's building and zoning codes, is unapologetic.
"There's a law in place, and so we follow the law," she said. The zoning code prescribes a "dustless all-weather material" for surfacing driveways and parking pads, while the building code specifies that the surface must be "asphalt, brick, concrete, macadam or stone block."
Such pavement requirements have been in place for years, if not decades, out of concern for limiting dust and weeds in the urban environment. But experts recognize now that rainfall washing off streets, roofs, driveways and parking lots is a major source of pollution fouling streams and the bay. As it's funneled into storm drains, the rain carries with it dirt, oil, animal feces and other debris and contaminants. The storm drains empty unfiltered into nearby streams and the harbor, rendering them unsafe for wading and swimming.
Glassman, the Butchers Hill civic leader, says the city ought to be more flexible in how it interprets its codes.
"If you take the law to the absolute letter of impermeable surfaces for parking pads, yes, she was in violation. If you show common sense and say, 'Yes, she did cover her front yard where she parks with a permeable surface so it absorbs rainwater and it doesn't run into the bay,' then she's being a good environmentalist."
Taylor, 64, a painter whose day job is with the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission, that the environment wasn't her first concern when she first put wood chips down for parking. That was in 1997, when she moved into the rundown former stable she'd converted into a home and art studio. Wood chips were mainly an economic move, she explains, since she'd poured most of her savings into rehabilitating the derelict structure on North Madeira Street. But using a natural material for pavement also suited her aesthetic sensibility, she says.
"I thought there was way too much concrete," she said. "I didn't know about sustainability or runoff. I was just trying to be ... what's today's word? 'Green'?"
Besides the woody parking pad, she's landscaped the front yard. She planted maples, mimosa, even a crape myrtle - so many trees, in fact, that she's cutting some down because they're crowding each other. She says her neighbors seem to like what she's done with her place, putting it on Butchers Hill home tours twice.
The city didn't seem to mind, either - at least until last April, when an inspector showed up in response to a complaint called in to the city's 311 switchboard.
Some city officials are sympathetic but say they're caught in a bind.
Beth Strommen, manager of the city's Office of Sustainability, says municipal officials have come to recognize that paving everything "doesn't necessarily make for a very attractive city, and it doesn't help with water quality, either."