I Told the HOA to Evict the Sun

I had just installed the most expensive pergola the city of Scottsdale had ever seen — an arched, stained cedar masterpiece crowned with UV-treated canvas sails and recessed lighting that dimmed like a Parisian rooftop bar. Naturally, the HOA hated it.

At first, they claimed it “didn’t conform to the community aesthetic,” which I found rich coming from a board whose own president had plastic flamingos in her yard. But the final straw came when I received a formal violation for casting shadows.

“Your pergola is obstructing natural sunlight to the neighbor’s yard between 4:15 and 5:25 PM,” the letter read. “Please rectify or remove the structure.”

Excuse me? Rectify the position of the SUN?
No. No, I don’t think I will.

I attended the next HOA meeting in full aviators and a suit. I brought charts. I brought a sun path calculator. I brought a laser pointer. I demanded that the HOA evict the sun if it couldn’t get its act together and shine at a more accommodating angle.

I also suggested installing a community mirror system to bounce light where needed. “It’s either that,” I said, “or I take this to the Department of Cosmic Affairs.”

One board member snorted. I turned to him and asked, “Do you think shadows are a joke, Greg?”

They fined me anyway. $500 per day until I removed the pergola. So I compromised:

I left the pergola up and covered it in mirrors.

Now it reflects sunlight into every backyard on the block. Directly. Blindingly. It’s like a lighthouse in suburbia. My house can now be seen from planes. Birds crash into it. Kids think it’s a portal.

They dropped the fine within 48 hours.

🧠 What I learned:

HOAs are the kind of people who tell you to mow your rocks and repaint invisible fences. You can’t reason with them. You have to out-crazy them — with science, spectacle, and solar defiance.