That split explains almost every repair call we take here. Roughly four in ten Edmonds homes went up between 1940 and 1969, the median house dates to the mid-1970s, and barely one in eight was built after 2000 — the legacy of a population that tripled from about 8,000 to over 30,000 between 1960 and 1990 as the hills north and east of downtown were subdivided and annexed. Those ramblers, split-levels and tri-levels were carpeted wall to wall when they were new, because that was the era. Forty and fifty years on the carpet comes up and what is underneath is narrow oak strip, sometimes fir, sometimes 1970s parquet, sometimes sheet vinyl in the kitchen. Most of it is worth saving. The board inside the slider usually is not, and that is where we start.
Down in the Bowl the picture changes completely. The original townsite is the old Edmonds — George Brackett's timber settlement, incorporated in 1890, with a sawmill on the beach from 1889 and ten shingle mills along the waterfront by 1900 — and the housing runs from the 1888 Bassett house through the Craftsman and Queen Anne years. Those floors are typically vertical-grain Douglas fir, the standard in Puget Sound houses of that age. Fir is soft, it dents under a chair leg and a dog's nails, and matching century-old grain means salvaged stock, not anything off a rack. Ringing the same few blocks are the low-rise condos, usually engineered wood or LVP over a slab, where the failures are gapped seams, hollow spots and planks cooking along the west-facing glass that stares at the Sound, the ferry lane and the Olympics all afternoon.
Then there is water, which in Edmonds is rarely dramatic. About 37 inches of rain over roughly 158 wet days a year, most of it between October and March, working on a town built across sloping ground above five miles of shoreline. Daylight basements and split-level lower levels take the brunt: the floor darkens at the low end of the house, laminate edges swell, LVP starts lifting along one wall. On the Meadowdale side, where the city maintains a designated earth-subsidence and landslide hazard area and the winter of 1996–97 did real damage, drainage is already something people watch. We read moisture under the boards before quoting anything, and if the problem is water arriving from outside the house we say so instead of covering it up.
The newest slice is the Highway 99 corridor, replanned under the city's 2017 subarea plan and filling in with mixed-use apartments and townhomes over LVP, plus rental stock through Firdale, Westgate and Five Corners. Those floors are young and the damage is mechanical — a dropped pan, an appliance dragged across a kitchen, a plank chipped at a doorway — which is exactly the kind of thing that gets quoted as a whole-room replacement when three planks would do. We cover all of it: the Bowl, Seaview, Perrinville, Meadowdale, Sherwood Forest, Westgate, Five Corners, Firdale and the Lake Ballinger end of town.