It is puzzling when some are surprised by the law of intended consequences — particularly infill zoning when it is “We didn’t know it meant that.”
The article “Changing Spaces” (April 14-15) outlined the problem with many aspects of this zoning and the Northampton sustainability plan.
It remains incomprehensible to many how anyone would provide for building within 10 feet of wetlands in Urban Residential zones, maximizing density on small lots by amending to zero lot lines and eliminating 30-foot side yard setbacks, and reducing minimum frontage/lot widths.
This destroys what they profess to save when building by wetlands and green spaces, reducing or eliminating yards that separate homes from each other and streets — all of which entails a loss of privacy, attractiveness, flood protection and an increase in noise, traffic and congestion.
Allowing back yards and other inner-city green spaces to be eliminated under the current mantra of infill and sustainability often leads to inappropriate dense housing development destroying the quality of life in neighborhoods. Evidently, we are supposed to drive to Mineral Hills for a picnic instead of using backyards.
Why is it the Planning Department’s responsibility to find approximately 300 people to move back in who they claim were “lost” from the last downtown census?
A measured approach occurs when infill projects (like the renovation of a house on upper Market Street which kept the same footprint but added a third floor and porches), but taking no green space, is what is allowed. That is positive sustainable infill — not the current push to fill in lot footprints to the maximum, allowing numerous additional units and thereby changing the look and feel of neighborhoods such as mine that have been here for 100 years or more. The desirability of these neighborhoods lies in their trees, yards and green spaces — not infilling in those spaces with as much housing as one possibly can.
Inappropriate infill projects will hopefully be recognized as a bad idea, just like it became obvious that placing Interstate 91 along the river in Springfield and Hartford, Connecticut, was ludicrously bad planning in the 1960s.
Dennis Helmus
Northampton