Seldom can I sleep past sunrise but on a Saturday morning earlier this fall, I returned to a pleasant slumber. Around eight o’clock, the “beep, beep, beep” of a big vehicle backing up shook me awake. A school bus was trying to make the tight turn into a pasture across the road from my house. It signaled an event that has become annual in recent years.

I share a half-mile stretch of rural New Hampshire with three other houses and a horse farm. Our section of the road is dirt and dead-ends at a government-owned tract of woods. My husband and I were thrilled to find land more than a dozen years ago in a sparsely developed section of town. Our dream home was under construction when the “For Sale” sign appeared in the field opposite our property.

We heard rumors of a fifty-home development proposed for the vacant farmland. Sadly, albeit selfishly, I thought, “There goes the neighborhood.” But the farmer sold his property to a woman who planned to board horses. Our six-year-old daughter was thrilled, and so were we. By Easter the following spring, the first horse moved in.

The new owner built a picturesque barn and indoor riding arena a little ways down the road from my house. Acres of nearby fields were divided into pastures with great lengths of wire fencing, preventing the enormous snapping turtle that lived in the farm pond from crossing the road to dig in my vegetable garden. I was not disappointed with missing that spring ritual.

After a couple of years, the farm woman invited nearby property owners to a meeting. Simply boarding horses wasn’t paying the bills, but she had some ideas for supplementing her revenue stream and wanted to run them by her neighbors before approaching the town for permission. Her dream was to host equestrian events: horse shows, dressage competitions, riding lessons and clinics. This proposal would maintain the rural character of her property. The back-up plan, if she couldn’t get approvals, was to develop a portion of her two hundred acres.

Much to my surprise, the neighbors told her to go ahead and build houses. What were they thinking? I’ll admit I was concerned about traffic, more so for the dust from the road that wafts down the hill to my house than anything else. Only one other homeowner and I are affected by traffic to and from the farm. Summer and winter we get plenty of dirt inside our homes, but we’ve accepted that as part of country living. The events-planner had factored in dust-control measures on the days of events. We weren’t going to get that with new-home construction.

In the months following, the planning board held public hearings to consider the request. I found the entertainment value of these hearings well worth the late nights. I was stunned by the arguments from my road-mates. In a nutshell, residents expressed concern about noise, traffic (specifically speeding traffic), and neighborhood protection.

Perhaps I should be more specific about the horses in question. For the most part, they are large, skittish and very expensive. It seemed unlikely their owners would behave recklessly while transporting the animals, and even less likely that these folks would be prowling nearby neighborhoods. Due to the nature of the beasts, it’s hard to imagine that anyone working with them would intentionally make loud noises. Any announcements made during an event would barely be heard beyond the field, let alone a half-mile down the road.

Ultimately the Planning Board approved the equestrian events, requiring only that the farm owner give the town sufficient notice before hosting large competitions and shows. Lessons and clinics were considered well within the guidelines for the farm’s current use.

It’s been nearly six years since those hearings and there have yet to be any large equestrian events. There have, however, been many competitions—among two-legged runners. The trails the owner cut across the farm for horses and riders are ideal for cross country races. Each fall the local high school hosts a meet that this year attracted a dozen schools. Once the snow flies, the Nordic ski team will practice on the trails. Hundreds of athletes have enjoyed the rural character of this property, and their activities fall entirely within acceptable farm use.

The woman who owns the property receives no financial compensation for allowing these teams to use her farm. However, before each event, a small army of volunteers moves in to pick rocks and clear brush. They rake and sweep, prepare and repair to make the trails safe for the athletes. It’s a fine example of “neighbors helping neighbors” in a figurative sense of the phrase. And I know the neighbor who owns this farm takes great pleasure in sharing her property with this audience

By Jackie Bower, UNH Cooperative Extension Master Gardener