Our rural neighborhood is experiencing a version of “colonization.” Where our croft’s small orchard, gardens, and fenced pastures had once been surrounded by family ranches, comprising thousands of acres (one simply does not ask the number), two have been sold and are being developed into forty-to-eighty-acre parcels. Approximate figures. Fortunately, ridges separate us from much of that land, protecting beloved views of undulating ponderosas. Today my husband and I can clearly hear hammers pinging, thanks to curving rimrock above us that performs like an amphitheater, echoing the measured strikes to our ears.

Our yellow Lab and I walk the nearby old ranch road, it being safer than the highway, and thereby have made the acquaintance of several of the new folks, including the gentleman who initially purchased the ranch. He kindly granted me permission to hike wherever I like (though some of the “tracts” have been sold, so, there’s that). Uneven ground is tricky however—turned ankles and the like and camouflaged rattle snakes. Keeping to the graveled road is a more prudent choice.

A bright pheasant popped into view one day—a most rare delight. In fact, an anomaly, due to too many coyotes, mountain lions, and eagles. I have spotted two more pheasants since that first one, and the realtor told me they’re trying to establish the species here. I paused then piped up, “Well, the coyotes will be happy.” He explained they are hoping the birds might remain near the marshy area where coyotes don’t go. (Okay. . . .) I mentioned our location up the highway. He recognized it, then we parted—Gabe, our Lab, growing impatient.

Concerns abound regarding properties that haven’t been surveyed for water—its depth, for instance. When we came upon our place, a well had already been dug, and for a few years we made do with orange streaks in our bathtubs, never sure if our daughter had strawberry blonde hair or not. We finally installed a water softener, alleviating the hard water nuisance, while a reverse osmosis machine imparts good taste to the water. A week after my 2010 open heart surgery, our well stopped working altogether and we had to hire a driller. Far better and more water than before, a true blessing.

Recalling our own acceptance into the community, we will offer welcome gifts of apples to these new neighbors, as well as our “old” ones. “I was once a stranger in a strange land. . . .” Indeed.