*There’s a red house over yonder, that’s where my baby stays.
Lord, there’s a red house over yonder,
Lord! That’s where my baby stays.
I ain’t been home to see my baby, in ninety nine and one half days/
Wait a minute something’s wrong here.
The key won’t unlock this door/
Wait a minute, something’s wrong,
Lord have mercy this key won’t unlock this door.
Something’s going on here!

I have a bad, bad feeling that my baby don’t live here no more…The concept of “home” is among the first we understand as children—when you’re a little one, your home is your whole universe. It is a safe place that’s always waiting for you just the way you left it. It’s where your brothers and dog and goldfish are. It’s also the first thing we try to own as children; little boys build forts or construct tree houses and little girls “play house” and explore various adult roles (I opted to play “White House” and explored the role of president, but that’s a separate story). Ironically, we spend the rest of our lives “chasing the dream home,” seemingly never satisfied. Even more ironic is to think that our homes have—and make—such a profound impact on our lives though they’re nothing more than places of shelter. We fill them with the stuff of our days and stage memory upon memory within their walls. And we devote the same attention to the structures themselves. I’d venture few things testify human evolution like housing.

And central to all that innovation and development are architects, artists bent on expressing our society in brick and mortar terms. Their long division is anchored in reconciling space and time, the sum of which are constructs that simultaneously inspire and define our dreams. Ever live in a poorly-designed house? Dwell in a space that was too small or lacking in sunlight? The ghastly grapple that space had on your psyche probably resonated in everything you did. Conversely, when entering a space that is open, has adequate light and harmonizes with its surrounds, you feel like you’re floating, don’t you?

All of this and more is why we chose Richard Meier as our cover story for this “Real Estate Issue.” Richard is not only a hero of modernist architecture, his buildings are fresh every time you look at them—and you’ve seen them around, even here on Long Island. A Meier building is individual because it synthesizes subtlety and strength. Each work stands out from its environment, but not apart from it. In their pure, silent whiteness, Richard’s building’s stare back at you, sphinx like, daring, but above defiance. His aplomb structures are naughty little buildings, every single one of them, smiling to themselves to make you wonder what they’re thinking…and wanting in.

On the opposite end of the real estate spectrum we have Donald Trump. Just when you think you know everything about him, he starts talking about running for president. Opinions abound about the man, but no one would dispute his gumption, tenacity and industriousness. Sure, there’s the thing about the hair, or the models or the bad deals, but we’re talking about a man who has so much of, um, something, he turned a definite article into a brand (The Donald, The Apprentice, The Deal, The Taj…). In his interview for The Pulse, The Trump focuses on his favorite topics: himself, his next steps and his family.

Balanced between these two sovereigns of real estate are our more accessible, more familiar interpretations of this concept of “home.” Extraordinary Estates features some of the most desirable (and available) domains on the market. These properties are not only opulent, they are stoic characters set upon well-manicured grounds ranging from the sprawling Gold Coast acreage to the casual sandy beach. Even if you’re not looking to make a move, their interiors will inspire you. When you’re ready to take action, remaining editorial fit to this theme will lend you the goods on the latest trends in décor and renovations.

But spring is not just the harbinger of real estate activity. It is a time to get out and do things. Like cozy up to a ball game, take in an art exhibition or live music, head west for a night on the town or show your long-neglected AmEx some overdue attention by cracking into early spring shopping. Whatever your poison, it’s time to turn up the music, roll down the windows and go get it—spring is here!

*Look out Now!

—nadA

* “Red House,” Hendrix