The Line
When I saw the cabin, I did not call the police.
I want to return to this moment because it matters more than the court date or the HOA board meeting or the afternoon the county assessor’s office sent the letter that finally settled the question of where the line had always been.
I am fifty four years old and I have owned this land for eleven years, having inherited it from my father when he died, and my father owned it for thirty one years before that, and the total of those years does not make me self-righteous about it but it does make me patient. Land teaches you patience if you let it. You cannot argue with it or accelerate it or threaten it with a strongly worded email. It was there before you and it will be there after, and the question of what you do with your time on it is really about what kind of person you intend to be.
My name is James Archer, and I am not a lawyer and I am not a wealthy man in any way that was handed to me. I am a retired civil engineer who spent thirty years working on municipal water systems in three states, which means I understand surveys and easements and the specific language of recorded documents, and I understand that most disputes about land come down to what is actually written down and where.
The HOA subdivision at the bottom of the ridge was built in 2009, when the housing development came in and changed the character of the road. They are not bad neighbors in the aggregate. Most of them are families who wanted a certain kind of life and found it here, and I respect that without needing to share it. The subdivision has a pool and a community garden and a newsletter, and until the cabin appeared I had no particular ongoing difficulties with any of them.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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