The pasture area adjacent to the golf course where we live often yielded lovely scenes such as this one. We loved watching the horses, petting them, feeding them the long grasses that grew up along the fence line. There were sometimes two dozen (or more!) of these stunning specimens. Rumor has it that the stables once boarded a horse belonging to Charleton Heston.

Anyway, once the ‘old man’ – a former veterinarian – passed away I knew it was just a matter of time before his kids sold the property to make way for the inevitable development. Now, in the distance, we’re witnessing rooftops and paved streets and meandering avenues popping up where once horses ran and grazed and provided us with such incredible movement and grace and beauty.

It breaks my heart, this relentless onslaught of ‘progress’.

“Look. There’s some more trees. Let’s cut them down and pour concrete, build office buildings, resurrect a new housing development!”

Greedy bastards. It makes me sad and nauseous with despair.