I used to play among these tall grasses with my imagination running wild, pretending to be a warrior princess--nearly a decade before Xena hit the air. When I wasn't running, I'd often sit near the little lake by the railroad tracks, or wander through the abandoned greenhouse. Here, I learned to be a poet and a philosopher, a dreamer and a lover of nature. I'd watch the prairie dogs yip as the red-tailed hawks swept across the field, sometimes to catch a snack from the birdfeeder in my backyard. Sometimes, on hot summer days, I'd drag an inner tube down to lazily float down Big Dry Creek. When my cousins or friends would come to play, I'd always feel a sense of pride as I led adventures through the field. It was "open space", and belonged to everyone, but I felt a touch of selfishness about it.
So, one day, when I discovered a series of stakes had been posted through the field, marking off various tracts, I took it rather personally.
My parents and other homeowners along our street were concerned about what would be built--there was plenty of debate over what should be built, small residential homes, tall office buildings, parks? Everyone seemed to agree that something would be built. Except for me. I hated the idea of anything being built in *my* field. 
When I saw the stakes, I did the only thing I saw possible--tried to stop progress. I took every stake I could find, snapped them in two, and threw them into the creek. Hah! That'll show them... don't build in *my* field!
My efforts were in vain. When they built a road through the middle of the field, along with a bridge over the creek, I felt like I'd lost. When they built a recreation center on the opposite edge, complete with three pools and a waterslide, I found I didn't mind so much. The new road had excellent bike paths, and the rec center was on the other side... maybe they would leave the area by my house alone. The new road also left me with a gnawing curiosity. Instead of naming it 104th ave, as would have fit the logical plan of the rest of the city, they named it "Church Ranch Boulevard."
Church Ranch? There weren't any churches or cows around... just the greenhouse and an old barn over by the lake. I vaguely remembered seeing the lake on a map 
labeled as "Lower Church Lake" and thought there might have been a connection, but I didn't question it. By that time, I cared more about being invited to parties and making plans for college than some dinky lake and a dry old field. Eventually, I stuffed these pictures into an album and moved away, having either forgotten or outgrown my days of ecoterroist-stake-breaking actions.
While I was gone, change happened. It would come as huge shock to me, one that would leave me unsettled until I gained a deeper understanding of the inevitability and constancy of change. In upcoming posts (along with many pictures of "then and now") I'll invite you to explore Church Ranch and other nearby locales along with me. From wetland ecosystems, to rancher's lakes, to farmer's canals, to placer mining ditches, we'll see how water shaped change in Colorado. And like the water that still moves through the canals, time flows on... so we'll look at the direction we are floating now, as well.
Next, You can go home again
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I think this kind of change happens to everyone. First for me it was a BP gas station built on the corner of my woods (a friend of mine wrote up a petition and a bunch of the kids signed it; we made the local paper but the gas station was still built.) Then a Hechinger's hardware store went up on a field from which I and another friend picked wild blackberries that his mom baked into a cobbler. That is the cobbler against which I have measured all subsequent cobblers. None measure up. An old drive-in theater in another town. I stopped counting. I wonder how Lake Charles, LA looks these days. I haven't been there in over 25 years. I bet that U-Totem where I played my first video game is gone. It happens to us all. Things go up, things come down. Lynn's bait and tackle is a sandwich shop -- or it was ten years ago.
I know of a book I think you'd really like -- 'The Place You Love is Gone,' by Melissa Holbrook Pierson. I wrote a review of it a handful of months back. The first third is a very moving, poetic account of the author dealing with these kinds of changes/'developments' happening in her native Ohio.
My brother writes about water issues for the Pueblo Chieftin. It's literally so important that he's the "water editor"!
That's an intriguing introduction to future posts.
When it comes to change, I find it helpful to be specific about the specific kinds of change we mean. Some kinds of change seem intrinsic to the universe. But "expansion", "(sub)urban sprawl", and paving paradise to put up parking lots seem intrinsic only to our culture.
This post (and the Place book mentioned above) seems helpful in comparing our cultural values to our personal values. Thanks.
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Thanks, everyone for your feedback. I've had a lot of fun preparing the research for this series, and it looks like it will be as fun to share it. The best parts are yet to come, too.
Craig, I think you're right about it happening to everyone. Still, don't forget that the sandwich shop probably holds precious memories for those who came after you... they'll feel the same when it goes (if it hasn't already.)
Katherine, Pierson sounds like a woman after my own heart. I've added the book to my wishlist. I noticed she dives into her local history, and encourages others to do the same. That's what I'm about to do, here.
Donna, I've probably read your brother's work on countless occasions. It sounds like he has a pretty secure job--Colorado will always have issues about water.
etbnc, I agree that it is valuable to distinguish between different types of changes, and how these differences build uniqueness. At the same time, I believe that all changes in the universe, including urbanization, have some similarities, as well. You've sort of revealed my plans... After I've finished with the historical aspects of this series, I hoped to discuss change from more of a philosophic angle, and explore such similarities and differences.