Back then, it was nothing but dirt roads and dairy farms for 20 miles in every direction. Now, it is just me, 60 acres of rolling pasture, and a massive housing development that crept up on my eastern property line like a fungus.Pickup Trucks
They call it the Whispering Pines. There are no pines, and the only whispering is the sound of neighbors gossiping over their vinyl fences. I do not mind neighbors. I really do not.
You stay on your side of the property line, I stay on mine, and we give each other a little wave when we drive past. That is the country way. But Whispering Pines was not built for country people.
It was built for people who want the aesthetic of the countryside without any of the actual dirt. Enter Brenda. I first met Brenda on a Tuesday morning in early April.
I was fixing a fence post near the property line, minding my own business, when I heard the crunch of gravel. I looked up to see a woman marching toward me.
She wore crisp white capri pants, a salmon-colored blouse, and a visor that cast a shadow over a tightly clamped jaw. She was clutching a plastic clipboard to her chest like it was the Holy Grail.Hiking & Camping
