And suddenly I understood something very clearly.
The people up on that ridge had decided my land was just an obstacle to their scenery. Just a problem to be managed, a landscape design issue to be solved by removing what was inconvenient.
What they didn’t realize yet—what they had no way of knowing because they were accustomed to getting their way, to having their preferences treated as requirements, to being the kind of people who could simply decide things and have those decisions executed without question—was that the only road leading into Cedar Ridge Estates ran directly across the lower corner of my property.
And I owned every inch of it.
My father had been very specific about that when he drew up the easement agreement forty years ago.
The History Of A Property And An Agreement
My father bought twenty acres in these foothills in 1978. Built our house with his own hands. Planted those sycamores when I was eight years old. I remember him digging the holes, me handing him the saplings, the feel of the soil in my hands as we worked together to establish something that would outlast both of us.
