Between two posts
Here on the Island, there’s a history of land ownership disputes. I’ll not bore you with the details; suffice that everyone has a duty to know where their yard ends and the neighbour’s begins. And a rule is a rule, even in a campground.
We live between the green posts. Those two, just there. We have a firepit, and a tree or two, and access to a roadway. There are common areas, and we share, (more or less) equally. Imagine the shock when two dozen cars and trucks rolled in through the gate, just after lunch, offloaded their barbecues and children and set up for an extended family afternoon. Not even a tentpole among them. In OUR common area.
That’s not true; the campground is still a daypark, and the interlopers were within their rights. Awnd to their benefit, the whole roadshow was loaded out and gone before the supper period began, leaving no trace of their passage. It just seems unfair that they enjoyed a wonderful sunny afternoon without the “hardship” of wind-driven rains, or tent collapse or anything else related to the art of seaside camping.
I had a chance to look over the deed and property map for a piece of land acquired by one of the relatives. Again, on the Island, knowing your metes and bounds is important, because everywhere belongs to someone, somewhere. Here was a case of a subdivision near the water, originally laid out about three decades ago. Not much happened in terms of property development, other than the baptism of individual land tax numbers. All access is now overgrown.
Turns out that a keen eye can still find the surveyor pins, carefully noted on a geometrical plotting. Proof of where one yard ends and another begins. The legal equivalent of green fenceposts.
