My Neighbors Dug A Two-Acre Lake On My Land While I Was Out Of State—Then Told Me Their Contractor Said It Was Theirs, And That Was The Day I Learned How Expensive Arrogance Can Be

how to tell which pines needed thinning, how to recognize when a creek was running muddy because somebody upstream had done something stupid.

And he taught me about boundaries.

The old stacked-stone fence marked our southern line. It ran along the ridge in a crooked, stubborn way, following the land instead of fighting it. Nobody alive knew exactly who built it. The county records referenced “stone boundary markers” as far back as 1871. The fence was older than my grandfather, older than my father, older than every argument that would