This article was originally published in Citylab.
“A grove of five or six mature trees, some of them rising more than 50 feet into the air, once grew on a lot abutting our East Boston yard. In the summer, they shaded the cluster of five townhouses that wrapped around the grove. In the winter, we’d stare into the mix of evergreen and deciduous trees, longing for spring.
Besides serving as a mental escape for me and my neighbors, the grove was teeming with life: squirrels chasing each other from branch to branch; bluejays and cardinals leaving the heights to perch on our fence or back porches; pigeons, sparrows, and starlings fighting over the bread my older, homebound neighbor would throw them. We saw raccoons, skunks, the occasional possum family, and, in recent months, a bunny who’d make his way under our fence each morning to eat breakfast.
Then, one day, the grove was razed. The lot, which had been a garden for decades, was purchased and leveled to be turned into three single-family townhouses. In an instant, it seemed, our urban oasis had vanished…”
Read on at: Citylab.