Once there were green fields kissed by the sun;

Once there were valleys where rivers used to run;

Once there was blue sky with white clouds high above;

Once they were part of an everlasting love.

We were the lovers who strolled through green fields.

Green fields are gone now, parched by the sun;

Gone from the valleys where rivers used to run;

Gone with the cold wind that swept into my heart;

Gone with the lovers who let their dreams depart.

Where are the green fields that we used to roam?

                                                                Green Fields, The Brothers Four,

I remember as a kid watching our city expand out on the fringes beyond the suburbs, generally following the expansion of highways and freeways sparked by the Eisenhower administration (“National System of Interstate and Defense Highways”). In high school, the sprawling new subdivisions featured completed streets uninterrupted by houses that offered great places to park late at night at the end of a date.

I became aware that this development was also intruding on some of the properties where we were allowed to hunt birds or fish in the farm ponds. Gradually, those places became too developed or too near development and we had to travel farther out to find suitable hunting places. Luckily, our dad had clients with ranches that we were invited to visit, but that usually meant a drive of an hour, or maybe a lot more. That time was meaningful if we were trying to make a predawn duck hunt or get home in time for supper.

Close in farms and ranches were slowly engulfed by industrial, commercial or housing developments to the enrichment of the owners, but to our detriment. I was vaguely aware of the loss, but I was changing along with the times, so it seems more important in retrospect. As we traveled the now necessary roads, we did also get more gas stations, cafes and rest stops, though. So that was convenient.

Where I live now, on the edge of a metro area, there’s not much undeveloped land to be changed. The city on the east, north and south is pretty well developed. On the west, the Rocky Mountain foothills rise abruptly and are less suitable for structures until you get to the top. From our house, I can see the low hills to the north at the base of the foothills that have filled in with houses over the last few decades.

Most undeveloped land in this area is either unsuitable for development, owned by industrial or mining companies, or controlled by local, county or state governments. Colorado has enjoyed aggressive land use regulations and funding for parks, open space and land preservation. Nonetheless, large swaths of land have come under development for residential and other uses. I’m pleased to say that there does seem to be a greater emphasis on infill development, meaning that any large undeveloped parcel within a city or town is at risk unless otherwise protected. 

Nationally though, we can lose and have lost large expanses of land to development. Economics reporter and author Conor Dougherty, in a recent article notes, “The truth was that Mr. Sramek (developer) wanted to build a city from the ground up, in an agricultural region whose defining feature was how little it had changed. … but paving over ranches to build a city of 400,000 wasn’t the sort of idea you’d expect a group of farmers to be enthused about.”

“The fight is something of a throwback. Whether it was paving over San Fernando Valley orange groves to build out Los Angeles or ripping out apricot farms in what is now Silicon Valley, California became the nation’s biggest state and economy largely, by trading open and agricultural land for population and development.”

In some places things are changing, however slowly. New York Times reporter Cara Buckley describes places where closed golf courses are finding new lives. “A small number of shuttered golf courses around the country have been bought by land trusts, municipalities and nonprofit groups and transformed into nature preserves, parks and wetlands. Among them are sites in Detroit, Pennsylvania, Colorado, the Finger Lakes of upstate New York, and at least four in California.”

“The United States has more golf courses than McDonald’s locations and also has more than any other country, accounting for about 42 percent of all courses worldwide, according to the National Golf Foundation… America’s roughly 16,000 golf courses use 1.5 billion gallons of water a day, according to the United States Golf Association, and are collectively treated with 100,000 tons of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium a year… Though rewilding a golf course may disappoint players, it can bring big benefits to animals, plants and people.”

“For a golf course to be turned into a public green space, an unlikely set of stars need to align. There has to be a willing seller, and, crucially, a conservation-minded buyer who can afford to not just purchase the land but to restore it. According to Eric Bosman, an urban planner with the design and planning firm Kimley-Horne, 28 former courses were transformed into public green spaces between 2010 and October 2022.”

Maybe there’s hope for other properties that are no longer used as planned.

You will never ever know,
No, you will never see
The way the world was, years ago,
And how it looked to me.

It were all green hills when I were a lad,
Lovely, really lovely.
There were open fields and vast meadowlands,
Rambling dales, rugged moors and vales,
And the air was crisp and rivers stretched for untold miles;
The trees had room to grow and grow.
It were all green hills when I were a lad,
But, of course, you’re much too young to know.

                                                It Were All Green Hills from “Billy”

Music by John Barry, Lyrics by Don Black

Additional information:

Conor Dougherty, Snapping Up Farmer’s Land to Create a City, The New York Times, January 21, 2024

Cara Buckley, After Shutting Down, These Golf Courses Went Wild, The New York Times, Feb. 15, 2024