When one buys a house, usually one never sees the seller again. Usually. That’s our case. Our 1840s homestead used to sit on acres of dairy land. Over the decades (can I say “centuries”?), the owners have subdivided the land. I know of three homes in the neighborhood that sits on the once great fiefdom.
By the time our seller acquired the homestead, 7 acres were left. He kept 6 and sold us 1. (Sigh.) His intentions were to build a home on his acreage. Yesterday, the digging began. It was interesting to see a dowser take a few steps and watch his rod drop straight down in the same spot; no matter which direction he walked.
Today, with our permission, utility lines will be dug across our land. A man needs his cable and AC, I suppose.
We got used to the views from our back windows: the lake, the trees, the distant hilltops. I don’t think all of this will be interrupted but to see a roof top and lights from a once quiet and dark space is disappointing. I wish he had built before we moved in then we would have never known The Other.