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When my husband, Jack, and I found our house in 2011, by chance, it was on a laneway in Toronto’s northwest community of Weston. Six years later, we built a 400-square-foot garage with aÌýcovered patio next to the laneway. The city was studyingÌýnew housing options likeÌýlaneway and garden suites, but theÌýcity plans weren’t on our radar. Jack had been treated with lung cancer and we knew there was a good chance it would recur, but we were hoping he’d have a few years using the garage as a workshop.

Jack’s cancer metastasized about a year after he built the garage and he diedÌýa few months later. WhenÌýpandemicÌýlockdowns started, I’d been a widow for 18 months, grieving alone in a three-bedroom house. With nearly two decades as a lawyer in the non-profit and co-op housing sector, I knew firsthand about the housing crisis. It felt wrong to be living and working alone in so much space when others couldn’t find housing at all.

By then, the city had passed a bylaw allowing laneway suites and so I hatched a plan to convert Jack’s garage into my living space,Ìýadding a 150-square-foot second storey. It would free up my house to rent to a family,Ìýwhile keepingÌýme in the community IÌýloved andÌýallowingÌýme a simpler life.Ìý

The first part of that simplification required me to downsize — not just my physicalÌýspace, but my possessions. Using Facebook Marketplace, I sold everything from tools to furniture to bar glasses. ManyÌýitemsÌýwere hard to part with since they reminded me of happy times with Jack. But I wanted to reduce my belongings to what I’d need for my new life, and the things necessary for aÌýfurnished rental house. The $8,000 I got from sales helped pay the designer who understood my vision for my laneway home.

Then I got to work remapping my professional future. I’d loved my law career, but I was ready to have less responsibility and a reduced workweek.ÌýI was lucky to find the security of a four-day-a-week job at the Co-operative Housing Federation of Toronto. It’s meaningful work with reasonable pay and excellent benefits. I’ve left the fifth day for a side hustle of writing, speaking and consulting, which is slowly developing.

Next, I found a contractor I could trust. But how would I pay him? Non-profit sector lawyering isn’t like practising on Bay Street but because I was single until I was 43 and I have no kids, modest amounts set aside for retirement had always seemed like enough.

Between renting my furnished house and my part-time work, I could afford a new mortgage. My credit union loaned me $400,000 spread over 25 years — that’s on top ofÌýmy existing $100,000 mortgage, so it’s very likely I’ll die with a mortgage but to me it makes sense.Ìý

I’d hoped to be living in my new house before leaving my law practice on Dec. 31, 2022, but getting the permit from the city involved two significant hiccups that delayed construction by four months.

The first was learning that the new house would be too far from a fire hydrant to allow access for a fire truck. Alternatives were few and I elected to go with the one that provides maximum fire safety — I have a full fire safety system, including a sprinkler and a 450-gallon water reservoir to feed it. Ka-ching! The fire suppression system along with inflation in construction costs during the delay upped the price by $100,000. Most would have abandoned the project, but I’d made the emotional commitment to it by then and it was still within the amount my lender was prepared to loan.

The second hiccup was the city’s requirement that I pay a guarantee that I wouldn’t damage the city-owned trees in the adjacent park. Agreed! I didn’t want to hurt those trees either — they’re a major draw for their beauty and their shade. The amount was a shock though — $8,000 per tree for three trees. I took a breath and paid it from my line of credit, hoping the trees would be intact at the end. (The city refunded my guarantee a few weeks after I moved in.)

The six months of construction went smoothly. Because I was practising law from home, I was available to give input to the contractor as needed and even take soup to the workers on cold days. I moved into my custom space in May 2023.

I had four goals in the design of my new house and my new life.

I wanted it to inspire maximum creativity, inside and outside. The space reflects my years with Jack, my passion for writing and cooking, and my love for bold colour, including a woodland mural wrapping around two exterior sides. I’ve kept my backyard refuge and covered patio.ÌýÌý

I aimed for a degree of energy efficiency. While I was disappointed I had to install a gas furnace instead a heat pump because the electrical load of the two houses was already high, by occupying 550 square feet instead of 1,500, I’ve reduced my environmental footprint.

I know my finances will never support retirement home living so, although I’m still healthy, I considered what I’d need when I’m older. I included a roll-in shower/steam sauna instead of a bathtub, and a staircase that could accommodate a chairlift.

Finally, I’ve achieved built-in community right here on my property with my tenants. I rent my furnished house through , a website for academics. (I fill in rental gaps with Airbnb stays of at least 28 days.) Each rental experience enriches my social life and improves my understanding of the world. In 18 months, I’ve had, among others, an Iranian family relocating to Toronto; a Salvadoran-Canadian family who gathered here for December; neighbours needing short-term housing; and a York professor and his family displaced by the war in Gaza.

I know going into so much debt at this point in my life has risks. For one, I’m counting on º£½ÇÉçÇø¹ÙÍøreal estate holding its value so that if I do die still owing my credit union, there will be lots of equity in the property to pay off the mortgage. I currently owe the lender a third of the appraised property value, but there isn’t much data on sales of backyard suites yet.

I’m also banking on rents not falling. For now, my tenants cover two-thirds of the property-related costs. Even if there is a blip in the rental market, the long-term forecast is forÌýrents to trend upwardÌýand I’m playing the long game.

Torontonians’ uptake on building backyard suites has been slow — but it’s growing. As of late November, more than 1,200 laneway and garden suites have been approved, according to city figures.

For many, it doesn’t make financial sense and there isn’t yet meaningful government support to build them. But that, too, is changing.ÌýIn October, the federal government changed mortgage rules. Lenders can now give homeowners looking to build a backyard suite 90 per cent of the property value (including the value of the backyard home) and spread it over 30 years.ÌýThat’s a program I might have used had it been available when I started.

I’m aware of a couple of other potential risks to my plan. If my writing, speaking, and consulting side doesn’t continue to grow, as I’m hoping, the income side of the equation will be light. And like everyone else, I’m vulnerable to something catastrophic happening to me or to the property.

I don’t think much about the risks, though. Instead, I focus on the rewards. My new house, dubbed Chandlerville, is more than a place — it reflects my simpler state of mind. I’ve ditched the detritus of mid-life and nothing new comes in: if it’s not consumable, I don’t buy it.

Best reward of building Chandlerville? I’ve created another home in a housing crisis. And that feels great!Ìý

Celia Chandler is writing a book, Lane Change, about building Chandlerville. You can follow her weekly blog at .