Reality dirt

Reality struck behind my red barn Monday morning. While typing my slightdetour post, I could hear heavy equipment groaning and beeping in the field between the barn and Quest Aviation. By the time I made it outside, a long ridge of newly-excavated dirt was growing from north to south in front of the huge metal building that will soon house Quest's manufacturing activities.

By day's end, the piles had grown, and another excavator had joined in on the project. A dump truck showed up and began hauling some of the dirt to an established pile in the northeast corner of Quest's property. That evening I walked through the area to see that, with the exception of the utility boxes, all vegetation had been removed flush with our east fenceline.

I learned that this dirt work is making the way for Quest's parking lot. That came as a surprise because earlier this spring I'd been told that a road would go through that same area connecting to a planned Selkirk Airpark, which goes before Sandpoint City Council tonight for final approval. I guess we'll have to wait and see how the road and the parking lot will function in the same spot.

As a citizen who believes very strongly in the economic impact that Quest Aviation will have on this community with its planned employment numbers, I'm feeling very torn these days. In order for the airplane manufacturing company to build its cargo planes, it must have the facilities to do so. That includes huge metal buildings and parking lots.

The events of this week, however, have set in motion another chapter in my ongoing struggle to keep a positive outlook that this lovely ten acres of ours in the midst of all this construction can remain a peaceful place for us to continue to inhabit. I'm used to sounds of 40-plus trains per day passing by us on the west. I'm accustomed to the roar of leer jets several times a day. Have lived with these transportation-oriented noises virtually my entire life.

Somehow, though, the sight of excavated dirt right next to my fenceline, signaling a spot where hundreds of cars per day will eventually occupy on yet a third side of our little rural haven makes me wonder if we aren't getting a loud signal to get out. I'm having a very difficult time with this, as my husband and family members who've been on the receiving end will attest.

As the reality that it's not gonna go away continues to set in, I find this Wednesday morning to be better than Monday morning. Maybe tomorrow will bring a more positive spin in my mind, which yearns to simply be left alone in our little heavenly sanctuary here on Great Northern Road.

My brain fully understands that for people to benefit, progress must occur. My heart, however, breaks as I watch these dirt piles of our industrial future inch even closer, erasing the pastoral beauty we have enjoyed around this much-loved home of ours for 28-plus years.