My parents tell me there is a confused rabbit hanging out in the back yard back home, moving in closer to the house because the land it once lived in is being developed as cottage lots.

I am disappointed because the person developing the land, a relative, has spent many years preaching to other people and promising to not sell the land as a way of protecting the Island from overdevelopment. He pledged, for decades, to leave that piece of land as it is as part of a trust. And that piece of land was such a part of my childhood, as a wild and beautiful space full of wild berries and creatures and places to play.

The past two or three days, pretty much all of the trees have been carted out. The land is now to be five cottage lots, and the guy expects to make a tidy profit to give to his spoiled 36 year old daughter who, it seems, has not had to pay for a thing in her life. It was one bit of wild space I thought might survive, outside of the National Park area.

And so the very last bits of open land and woods and anything remotely hugging a shoreline are quickly being bought up and marked with gargantuan mansions which are meant to be cottages for the rich. Stanhope is no longer really a rural space, but a seasonal suburb with exceptionally cultivated lots. I can’t get over the changes in the last 5-10 years. I’m afraid one day, I’ll travel home and not recognize the place.