My Neighbors Cut Down My Trees for a Better View—So I Closed the Only Road to Their Luxury Homes

else may someday sit in their shade.

And perhaps they’ll never know why there are twelve sycamores standing where six once stood.

Now, on quiet evenings, I sit on my porch and watch the wind move through the leaves.

The view is different than it used to be.

Filtered.

Layered.

Alive.

Sometimes I think about everything that happened.

Not as a story about revenge.continue reading …