My Wobbly Bicycle, 172
The day our little paradise on the Elk River in Maryland was ruined, I sat on our deck, turned my face to the wall and cried. The strip of land behind us, the viney, drapey, wooded path to the Elk River that we thought of as our own, was obliterated by buyers of the house behind and to the right of us. Soon there were ATVs roaring just beyond our back yard. Which reminds me of what’s just happened locally behind the airport. First Costco ripped out a forest of trees, home to countless creatures, then the airport took almost all the rest. What’s going, what’s gone. It’s hard to...
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