part2:
“I bought a farm.”
“And we intend to make sure your farm doesn’t become our problem.”
I looked past her at the laminated signs.
HOA EASEMENT ROAD.
NO INTERFERENCE.
NO UNAUTHORIZED MODIFICATIONS.
They had printed those words in large black letters, as if bold lettering could transform an assumption into a legal right.
“Did you get my permission to attach those signs to my fence?”
Margaret rolled her eyes.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. We’re not asking your permission to protect our own property.”
“It’s my fence.”
“It’s our access corridor.”
“According to whom?”
“Our attorneys.”
“Then your attorneys can explain it.”
Her face hardened.
“Careful. You’re making this worse for yourself.”
I opened the envelope and read the first page.
Cedarwood Ridge Homeowners Association had filed a civil lawsuit requesting a judicial declaration of its established easement rights over the road crossing the southwest corner of my property.
The complaint described 31 years of continuous use.
It described maintenance expenditures.
It described the road as essential to the subdivision.
It also characterized me as a potentially hostile new landowner whose purchase threatened the community’s security.
There was one remarkable omission.
Nowhere did it identify a deed, recorded easement, or other instrument actually granting Cedarwood Ridge the rights it claimed.
Margaret mistook my silence for intimidation.
“That’s right,” she said. “Read every word. Maybe you’ll finally understand that you can’t bully an entire neighborhood.”
I closed the envelope.
“Who’s your attorney?”
She pointed to the letterhead.
“His name is right there. And unlike you, he knows how property law works.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
She looked genuinely confused.
I took out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking pictures.”
“Of what?”
“Your signs. Your vehicle. The tire tracks. The people attaching notices to my property.”
Her expression changed.
“You are not permitted to harass HOA representatives.”
“I’m standing on my own land.”
“You’re documenting us without consent.”
“You’re in an open field attaching things to my fence.”
She looked at the two men.
“Finish the signs. We’re leaving.”
One of them hesitated.
“Margaret, maybe we should—”
“Just finish.”
He tightened the last zip tie.
Margaret turned back to me.
