Moren had recently relocated from California with her husband.
She was blonde, attractive, and extremely confident.
She favored expensive tailored suits, especially bright colors that drew attention wherever she went.
Her favorite was hot pink.
She wore it to meetings.
Community events.
And eventually, the confrontation that would leave her luxury SUV crumpled against Hank's tractor.
Moren's husband, Todd, worked in technology consulting.
He traveled frequently and generally avoided neighborhood politics.
Moren, however, loved organizing people.
She joined the social committee within months of moving in.
Then the landscaping committee.
Then the board.
Her enthusiasm impressed several residents.
She remembered names.
Organized events.
And spoke passionately about protecting property values.
When she ran for HOA president, her campaign promised stronger standards, improved neighborhood appearance, and aggressive enforcement of community rules.
She won.
At first, Hank barely noticed.
His farm wasn't part of Prairie Meadows.
He paid no HOA assessments.
He had no vote in association elections.
And its board had no general authority over his agricultural operations.
He assumed that would remain obvious.
Moren saw things differently.
From her back patio, she could see the eastern cornfields.
During the growing season, the crops rose above the privacy fence.
During harvest, machinery moved along the field edge and dust drifted into the air.
To Hank, it was ordinary farming.
To Moren, it was an obstacle to the polished appearance she wanted for Prairie Meadows.
At one neighborhood gathering, she told several residents that the farm made the subdivision look unfinished.
A retired teacher challenged her.
"The farm was here before our houses."
Moren smiled coldly.
"That doesn't mean it should stay exactly as it is forever."
The teacher frowned.
"What do you expect him to do?"
Moren looked toward the fields.
"Adapt."
She said the word as though adaptation meant accepting whatever she personally preferred.
The first letter arrived in June.
Hank opened it while eating breakfast.
It bore the Prairie Meadows HOA logo and described his agricultural property as an aesthetic concern.
The association requested that he install substantial privacy hedges along the subdivision boundary, improve the appearance of his gravel access road, and repaint the barn in colors approved by the HOA.
The estimated cost was more than forty thousand dollars.
Hank stared at the letter.