"You can't do this! I'm on the HOA board!"
"The HOA has no jurisdiction in this mud, ma'am."
It took three hours and a heavy-duty tractor pull to drag her ruined SUV out of the trench. The undercarriage was destroyed, the exhaust was packed with clay, and the transmission whined in agony.
Karen never looked at me as the tow truck dragged her vehicle away. She walked back toward Green Meadows, her high heels ruined, her white blouse splattered with brown clay.
The next week, I received a formal letter of apology from the HOA’s legal counsel, assuring me that the "historical access map" had been drafted in error and that residents would be strictly informed to respect my property lines. Karen Petton, I later learned, had quietly resigned from the board.
I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and walked out to the barn to check on Daisy. The farm was quiet again. The machinery of my life was finally running exactly as it was designed to.