I happened to notice a house on the market. It caught my eye as it was located down the street from where I grew up. I can recall who resided there, so many decades ago. She was an elderly widow.  Her curtains would remain drawn and her house always seemed cool and dark. She was a tiny woman, whose overstuffed chair seemed to swallow her as she sat and told her tales. I would listen eagerly as she would recall how different the landscape was years prior. I was intent on learning what changes she witnessed in what we considered our neighborhood. With her description it was not hard to imagine what the route close to our homes looked like as a dirt road traversed by horse and buggy rather than the current paved road.  I always enjoyed my time with her. I never imagined that one day I would be the individual remembering how it used to be.

We lived on a road that was not, at the time, a major thoroughfare. The city limits were literally located across the street from us. As children we witnessed changes but they felt few and far between. Down the street a rundown gray clapboard Cape Cod was torn down as the land adjoining it was to change from pasture into a complex of multiple schools. One home on the corner of the intersection was torn down to make room for an ATM. On the opposite side there was a lovely brick rancher that was also to become history. On its land a convenience store was built. We seemed to take it in our stride. The farm down the street was sold. The field that once produced crops was to become a printing plant. In time, long after we had grown and moved on, the historic farmhouse would soon give way to be demolished along with the large printing plant. It was all replaced with a warehouse. The only thing that seems to remain unchanged is the spiral staircase manufacturer at the other end of the street. Could it be that we were the last children to make our way there and climb to the top of their display model that was erected at the corner of their property?

It’s not uncommon to hear residents complain about the local rural landscape being swallowed by new warehouse construction. Many of them are occupied bringing traffic and noise to a once docile environment. I notice many appear to remain empty. Built on speculation, they continue to wait for their time of activity. Many ponder if this type of growth is actually necessary and sustainable. I would imagine that the displaced wildlife population might wonder the same thing. Concerned with their own survival they must adapt to the changes brought by our economy. I wince when I think that I, too, might have contributed to this expansion due to my online shopping purchases.

Another change witnessed by those in rural communities is the proliferation of solar panels. Fields once farmed, offer energy as the new crop. Not to play devil’s advocate but they don’t seem to be as intrusive as the warehouses. They don’t hide lovely sunsets and once constructed there doesn’t appear to be an increase in traffic. I was pleased to see a herd of goats recently in one such field. Later along the fence line I saw a hawk. Maybe this is a more gentle way to change the landscape while welcoming the future.

Years ago, when I purchased my home, one great selling point was the farm field adjacent to my backyard. The first improvement I made to my home was to screen in the back porch. I have enjoyed the views and the privacy. Although I understood that a development of independent senior cottages would be built to accompany the existing assisted living residence nearby, those plans might have changed. A large sale sign, advertising the location, was erected. It has since been removed. I question whether the land has sold or if it was removed from the market. Either way, I have already determined what changes I will make to the back of my property to continue to enjoy the possible change in landscape. My rocking chair remains on the porch. If I find that no one comes to hear my tales of how it used to be, I might be tempted to continue to share them with you.