This is the shortcut I take to get to the Village every day. It's a more direct route than the paved road that circumnavigates the island, but I think it takes just as long because it's a winding series of trails and dirt roads. It's a steep climb up a long, squat ridge to the top, which is a quiet, magical area (pictured here), that always causes me to stop and listen for a while. Usually there's a Raven or two squawking in the trees, or flapping noisily across the grey sky.
Part of the trail was a well-worn dirt road that looked like it had been walked- and biked-upon for decades. A few weeks ago, the road has been levelled and widened by the single pass of a bulldozer. I don't see any survey tape around yet, but I sense that this quiet hilltop will be developed sooner or later.
It won't be the first time I've seen a special place paved over and subdivided into house lots. Off the top of my head, I can think of half-a-dozen wild places where I used to play that are gone now. I often wrestle with the sadness of this kind of loss. I do like them woods.
An idea is starting to gel in my head - a creative way to document these places before their magic is diluted by grass lawns, right-angles, fences, and barking dogs. It won't be a defiant "stop the change" kind of thing. Just a way to honour these places by recording them, so they can be remembered after their gone. I think that might make these transformations easier for me to accept.
