My blood is boiling after learning more about the impacts of the proposed data center and warehouse developments. It’s not just the clearing of hundreds of acres that gets me. It’s the approval of a measly 300-foot setback from the river.
I’m not angry at the billionaire developer from Texas.
I’m angry at the council and a system of checks and balances that, from where I stand, seems too willing to accept short-term promises while discounting the long-term costs to a place. The costs to its natural beauty. To its wildlife. To the peace of the people who already call it home.
The question I keep coming back to is: Who really benefits?
Money has influence. It always has. When someone with immense wealth arrives promising jobs, growth, and investment, it’s hard for a small community to push back. Sometimes those promises become reality. Sometimes they don’t. But once the trees are gone and the land is altered, there isn’t an easy way to put it back.
I get mad. Sometimes obsessively so, to the point that I feel hopeless.
So I carve out my own slice of heaven. I walk it. I lie in it. I roll around in it. I soak up every ounce of beauty I can while it’s still here.
And quietly, I wonder where the tipping point is.
At what point do enough people decide that clean water, healthy ecosystems, and the character of a place are worth protecting? At what point do we decide that growth has to include stewardship?
I don’t know the answer.
I just hope we remember what’s worth keeping before it’s gone.
Love, Jaclynn