About a field in Hubertus

The apex of fall always brings about melancholy memories of a place that doesn't exist anymore.

When I was growing up, we lived in the first subdivision carved out of rolling farmland in what is now a sprawling suburb of Milwaukee. It wasn't then, and one of the pleasures of my youth was walking the vast fields around us and just checking things out. In fall, after the corn had been harvested, this meant being able to walk literally for miles with nothing but the wind and sky for your companions. It was good for the pre-teen soul.

The penultimate stop on this tour was always the grand vista provided at the top of an enormous pasture, which rose majestically at it's furthest corner to provide a sweeping view of the terrain below. I don't know how the hell they ever got a tractor up there, but it was truly a beautiful spot. I would sit with my back against a tree at the fenceline, feeling akin to a trekker atop Mount Everest. Bathed in the majestic golds, greens, and reds of the fall season, the valley below seemed to roll on forever, a panoply of all that the untouched land can provde. Rich brown soil, abundant trees, limestone cliffs in the distance. And far below, arranged like miniature toys in this scene of wonder, a bustling family farm, it's red barn, weather beaten farmhouse, and glorious herd of dairy cows looking very small indeed in the grand scale of this setting.

This spot is gone now, that piece of land having been swallowed up in a golf course-subdivision development scheme some ten years ago. The view from there today is instead fareways, a couple of strip malls, and a lot of nondescript tan houses with three car garages and swimming pools. The farm-once the only sign of man in a sweeping natural panorama-is long gone too, having been sold off so the Culvers/Auto Parts Store/Pier One could squeeze in a little extra parking.

I don't think of this place often, but in fall I do, and I miss it.