Where I live is kinda rural (by my Florida standards)…a little place that’s a short drive into Santa Fe.
It’s called Tesuque and I’m not really sure if it’s a town, a township, an extension of Santa Fe (it’s still Santa Fe County), or some other classification that I’m not familiar with…https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tesuque,_New_Mexico.
Like I said, it’s rural for me. So quiet. Horses in actual horse pastures. Lots of wild animals animals, too–deer, adorable skunk and raccoon families (good to help keep the pack rat population down), coyotes, and hummingbirds.
One Sunday I was cleaning, and I heard this weird noise out on the road. I was like “That can’t be what I think it is” so I went out and looked. Yep. It was a person riding a horse down the road. Clop, clop, clop.
There’s lots of lovely wildflowers, a gorgeous meadow within the complex itself, and did I mention the peaceful silence?
So, what’s wrong with this picture? Why am I blogging about it on my Sustainable Saturday blog?
As some of you may already know from a previous blog, it’s the mindset of the complex I live in as a whole.
I just don’t understand why people would want move into this rural, wild-ish environment, when they have such a strong suburban mentality. There are plenty of (gated?) communities in Santa Fe proper with perfectly pristine landscaped yards/landscaping. Why don’t you live there? Why do you have to come out here and ruin this lovely rural spot with your suburban wannabe mentality? To be frank, my (human) neighbours are an ugly taint on this otherwise picturesque haven. Plus, I’m also just plain pissed off that it’s twice in a row that I got woken up by a weed-whacker on my first day off after working with kids and teenagers all week. Because, by the time Saturday comes, I’m just so exhausted and drained, and just need one morning to sleep in. Just one. Yes, there was grumbling and cursing this morning. A lot of it. And I didn’t even care who overheard me. I was that pissed off. And then maybe I cried some. Which didn’t help my already bleary-eyed fumbling as I tried to feed the cat.
Right now, the once-sunlit meadow full of beautiful waving grass is being chopped down by some guy with just a weed-whacker. (Poor guy! I imagine he’s not even making very much. If he were in Florida, he’d only be earning a pittance.) Not to mention the habitat loss of all the critters who used that meadow as sanctuary or for foraging or whatever other unseen animal activities take place in meadows.
They also routinely cut down all the lovely purple and orange wildflowers that the bees love.
So, I’m angry. Frustrated. Confused. Stressed. Hurting. Still exhausted.
But most of all, I’m heartbroken for the loss of the quiet beauty all around me that it seems only I appreciate. Well, me, and the animals and bees.
So, human neighbours, I don’t care if you smile and wave at me as you drive past. I’m not interested in being neighbourly with people like you. End of story.