They paved paradise ...

My mother has a habit of pointing out new developments in my hometown and saying, with a wistful voice, "There used to be the loveliest woods there."

Then she'll sigh and add, "Not anymore."

A much younger version of myself would grow exasperated at such moments. After all, that new shopping mall or condo complex was a sign of progress, right? And it's not as if the world was about to run out of trees.

Sheesh, Mom.

Last week, an older version of myself passed what used to be a lovely strip of land at the base of a wooded hill, land that looked as if it had been untouched for a lot longer than I've been around. Given that it's located at the far west end of a roadway that sports a local miracle mile, the land was like an oasis.

But as I drove past there last week, I saw bulldozers mowing down scores of trees and peeling back the brush and turf. There will, one day, be a family recreation center there, one that includes batting cages and a go-kart track. And I know some people will consider this progress.

But when I think of that land now, I hear my mother saying, "There used to be the loveliest woods there."

Not anymore.