I was out of breath when I reached the top of Stover’s Hill, a hay meadow located a few blocks from Vermont’s State Capitol building in Montpelier. I looked around as I caught my breath. I could see the capitol, the firehouse, the farmers’ market, the old theater – pretty much the entire town.

This climb was part of a lecture on development in the area. The lecturer was a local who felt a deep connection with this hayfield. She told us about a Wal-Mart that had been forced to locate 10 miles down the road, as the citizens of Montpelier loved their little community and were willing to fight to keep it a small town.

She went on to tell us that Stover’s Hill had been, for generations, THE place where the local kids took their snow sleds, trash can lids, and what have you, and made the three hundred yard run to the bottom. The hill was near perfect for sledding, for at the bottom it leveled out another hundred yards before going up a gentle rise near the old food co-op. I closed my eyes and envisioned myself as a ten-year-old, sliding head first at break neck speed toward the bottom, both terrified and laughing all the way down. I could see myself running back up the hill with Scott and Charlie, my boyhood best pals, to do it again and again. It was no wonder the residents of Montpelier were up in arms over plans for Stover’s Hill.

The latest old man Stover had passed away, leaving the pasture to his children, who were approached by a developer. The developer, for an undisclosed amount, purchased the hill. The developer’s submittal of the plans was the first anyone knew of the transaction. To add insult to injury, the plans included low-income apartments to be constructed on the site, which was surrounded by upper-middle class neighborhoods.

In Texas, we have a heritage of being able to do pretty much whatever we want to with land we own, regardless of our neighbors’ wishes. And yet, here was the owner of a piece of land, with the idea of building some much needed affordable housing (there is a housing shortage in Vermont), and was building within the city instead of taking valuable farm land, and I felt sick about it. No, I’m not in favor of sprawl; yes, I think building within walking distance to infrastructure is a good thing; and yes, affordable housing construction when needed is important. So why did this development offend me so?

Wendell Berry writes essays about his relationship with the land. He writes often about a “sense of place,” a feeling of connectedness to the land. Standing there, I felt connected. I “saw” and “felt” what the locals’ memories of this place must be. I allowed myself to become part of the experience. Does it take a good writer or storyteller to bring us closer to the land? Does being closer to the land help us make better decisions about its use?