This is what the hillside behind my subdivision used to look like in August of 2004 . . .

That year, I made this image during the heat of a golden, late August evening. Developers had broken ground about a mile to camera right of this site.

I observed that just as August’s end hung in the air, so too it now clung to the land. I would soon see the end of this serene scene.

Now, this view lingers only in memory. Today, a new subdivision stands to the right of this scene (as in just outside the frame) and they’ve broken ground along the gentle upward slope behind the trees in this scene.

I drove up there this evening and found heavy, earth-moving equipment strewn across the landscape below the mountain. Only the trees remain unmolested, for the moment . . . Soon, even they will be gone and replaced with houses.

One of my favorite contemporary urban-folk artists, John Gorka, wrote a song about the urban sprawl he witnessed in his own corner of the world. He calls it, Growing Houses in the Field. The lyrics are potent and the melody haunting. You can listen here:

John Gorka’s – Houses in the Fields

One point of interest: the gentle slope you see rising up to meet the mountain is the shoreline of an ancient lake, Lake Bonneville. This ancient lake covered much of North America’s Great Basin area for several tens-of-thousands of years, covering much of current-day Utah and parts of Idaho and Nevada. Today, there are three large bodied remnants of that ancient lake, The Great Salt Lake, Utah Lake, and Sevier Lake.

Over the next several years, I expect to see houses standing on the hilltops above where the waters of Lake Bonneville once lapped against this ancient shoreline. Contractors have already crossed that barrier across the valley from us – homes all the way up on the mountain top.

Bummer . . .
-Mike.