Gentrification

I walk out one morning but not before I hear a loud voice, very angry. One of the uphill neighbors is berating somebody.

He drifts away up the trail in volume. Then I see what was troubling him.

Where yesterday there was but woods with nary a human habitat in sight, there has miraculously appeared without sound or notice a series of log buildings. I stand and watch but nothing appears more sensible.

The logs for the buildings, four or five in number and laid out end to end, are newly pine. I cannot tell what they are for. Here is an official of some sort. He seems to be the only such on site.

What are you doing? is my question. It's all within our rights, he doesn't answer.

Look, I say, you have removed our juniper fence and have your border blocking even our driveway! He says, we did a survey.

He seems sure of himself. Must represent some corporate monolith. I ask how many there will be to occupy these buildings. One, he says. He figures he need not take me seriously. I am but a rooster clucking in his yard.

Lady and I walk down the road. Weird neighbor has one of the new pine cabins  on his property. He is out, tells us, yes, he has an agreement with the interlopers. He tries to entice Lady into his yard, as is his wont. I tell her we must go, remember? I swear as we walk down the road. We have enough trouble without engaging the lonely loon again. (He used to drop by and try and catch Lady out on the road. We finally managed to discourage him.)

We will probably have to move, I say. Well, we've been sort of expecting this, she says.

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