Last fall, I visited Broadmoor, a Massachusetts Audubon Sanctuary in South Natick. I hadn't been there for several years, but since the late '60's, I had walked, hiked, cross country skied, and explored there on many occasions. Its diverse terrain, abundant wildlife, intimate setting, and proximity to home made it a favorite venue and I was a frequent guest.
My recent visit left me with a very different, almost haunting feeling. While Broadmoor felt mostly the same from within, something about it had changed. It was no longer just a home for the resident flora and fauna, rocks and streams; it was a sanctuary unto itself. It felt fragile, isolated, and alone. Instead of being a protected entity amidst contiguous surroundings, it had become an island, apart from its neighbors ... a sanctuary of a different sort. And, while not wholly encroached upon by high rise buildings and incipient development, it had changed from being part of the ebb and flow of its environs to become a tiny enclave, a private repository, a land museum.
Time passes, things change. What we once thought immutable, is no longer. Populations grow, land is developed, homes are built.
I wonder how Broadmoor will look and feel to future generations. Will they know that once there were no boundaries - no fences - no man made delineation of itself from the world around it? Or, will they experience the land as we today experience fossils in a natural history museum? I wonder.
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