“It is not decaying,” I countered hotly.

“It is the cleanest, most meticulous garden in this county.”

“It remains an agricultural operation in a master planned residential zone,” Chad argued smoothly.

“Zoning regulations exist for a specific reason.”

“My father is seventy nine years old and has lived on this land his entire life,” I said, feeling tears of frustration well up.

“Our family has farmed this soil for a century, while you have been here for barely five months.”

“And I am sure that history is very meaningful to him,” Chad replied in a detached tone.