My normal morning commute takes me by what seems to be an abandoned farm: Fallow fields with tall grass, old stone walls overgrown with lots of greenery, tall, shady trees along the edges of the fields, a classic red barn and white-painted fences, a very modest house with fruit trees around it, a couple of very old farm trucks, and some woods off around the edges. The trees are particularly lovely and some have clearly stood there for over a hundred years, becoming one with the piled stone wall. All seasons it's peaceful and beautiful, a little island of serenity left over from a bygone age. I often arrive around sunrise, when the new light guilds everything and turns it magical. I have seen innumerable red and gray squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits of all ages, birds, and even once a pair of juvenile red foxes dashing along the road beside the stone wall. I love the spot and rejoice every time I pass through its sphere of influence. Here are a couple pictures I took there, not of the entire farm (alas), but of bits of it.





I've never seen anybody living there, and in the winter the snow just piles up, unplowed, around the house. I imagine the old farmer who lived there died and nobody took it over. Recently I have started seeing alarming signs at this haven: First a company came and rebuilt one of the walls, tearing out all the trees and plants growing there. The wall, although still stone, is now perfectly straight and square, surrounded by mud from all the backhoe driving, trucks, and construction workers. Then I kept seeing pickup trucks parked next to the barn, and the barn opened up -- something that had never happened in the year I'd ridden by. Then the yellow construction vehicles, backhoes and other things with tines and grabbers and huge shovels, appeared and started driving all around. They have been clearing out around the house, not the fruit trees yet, but near the dilapidated old garage and what used to be a wall there. The wall, bushes, and small trees are gone, and they have started clearing out the small woods behind the house. When I came by today the clearing had progressed considerably, with trees torn out and grass run over with heavy treads.

I'm afraid this is the end of my haven spot, that they are going to tear down all the trees and the fence and dig up the fields, just like they did in an empty lot a mile down the road. There the construction progressed just far enough to log the entire lot and fill it flat with dirt, and then they stopped. Nothing has happened for 6 months, but it's too late -- the trees are gone, irreplaceable, and what used to be a cool shady patch of road is now an unforgiving, ugly, sunny ride along a huge patch of dirt. I know this is what's going to happen to this lovely old farm, and I'm going to have to watch it step by step. Today it was an effort not to burst into tears as I rode by watching the construction workers ripping and tearing, destroying the homes of all those animals I've seen, starting to convert this pretty, calm spot into just another ugly housing development.



Is it silly to be heartbroken over the loss of a place?