Late in 2004, we bought the land adjacent to the lot we'd researched for building our planned CyberHobbit Home. After we'd established that it would require a mound system, the seller was unwilling to lower the price even though he'd originally assured us that these lots didn't need one of those expensive systems. We needed to get started on this adventure and be out of the apartment house where life was unbelievably constraining. We got started.
The county engineer's road construction crew had widened the little road by another couple feet and had cleared the front few feet of the trees, leaving their mess on top of the mess that the electric co-operative had left when they wanted their own right-of-way cleared. The township offered to relay our complaint about the mess to the fellow who would be able to burn (!) the mess for the engineer's crew, because he recommended that the fellow would be likely to offer us an economical deal on clearing the home site. And he did.
Since the Nature Center also used this fellow's services, and since he seemed to agree with us on our stated terms for minimizing soil disturbances, we were looking forward to getting progress as soon as the rainy spring subsided -- in June! We had been coming there in the evening after work and clearing tree debris in our woodsy lot and figured the house-island area would be more than our small equipment could manage. Ideas change. So did his. The fellow's idea of minimizing disturbance was not what was agreed on but at least the work site looked ready for construction of the infra-structure. His equipment may have been smaller than the usual dozers but he called in truckloads of stone using a friend of his with a monster truck even though we had specified that we preferred a small truck. And his technique of yanking out the slender trees, left some gigantic potholes, big enough to lose compact tractors.
But there was nothing to be done about it and we still found every night's