Fourteen
Get Up, Lara Jo!
Two miles south of the quaint residential area, on the east side of the main two-lane road, lies an expanse of land with three dwellings spaced about a half-acre apart. They’ve been built in the same log-cabin style with solar-panel roofs and long gravel driveways, the surrounding natural landscape left in place, other than the fields in front that have been marked off and tilled, “ready for you to plant your own functional gardens.” I laugh behind my hand. Mm-hmm, that’s not going to happen.
The house in the middle, at the top of a small rise, its driveway flanked by young black ash trees, is apparently mine. A line of trees visible along the rear of the property are, according to my tour guide, young Port Orford cedars and dawn redwoods, “which will eventuall
