Somewhere along the line "subdivision" turned into a dirty word.

It must have. Just watch people's faces screw up in contortions as they spit the word out. It's like that mouthful of mushed up peas our parents used to feed us as infants - we know we're being told to swallow it, but we don't like it one bit.

There are subliminal connotations to the word, too, that have much more to do with emotional inflection than perhaps rational explanation will tolerate.

Take for example the almost immediate assumption that comes along with subdivision - some individual is surely going to make a ton of money. Often, we envision that "developer" as a greedy person who is selfishly profit-oriented.

It's true that profit drives much of the stimulus for subdivision. Large pieces of property require large capital to evolve large visions into reality, a rather long way down the road.

There's nothing wrong with profiting from that risk-taking evolution. Yet somehow when subdivision and development begins in our neighborhood we tend to wonder under our breath about whether someone is trying to grab a quick buck right next door.

That's not a particularly fair assumption to make, but there have been enough shoddy developers around who make almost everyone cautious, and rightfully so. But, somewhere along the line there should also be an opportunity for the developer to earn some trust.

The next connotation of subdivision is that something bad is going to happen. The environment is going to suffer. The property values will go the wrong way. And the neighborhood will go downhill.

Some of those concerns are quantifiable and can be addressed with clearly defined steps to resolve them. Yet others, like change itself, cannot so easily be settled.

Interestingly enough, many of us live on property that was somehow subdivided through the years. We, of course, view our situation as beneficial to our own personal situation. It's worth remembering that our view wasn't necessarily shared, at least initially, by our new neighbors.

Few of us would welcome a feeder pig operation starting up 50 feet across the fence line of our dream-home property. Nor would many of us be thrilled to have a junkyard, trap shoot, fireworks factory or paintball business move in next door. Those are all fine businesses, but we'd appreciate it if they were located somewhere else.

When we live in a place that we cherish, quite naturally we resist change. We often reject the argument that change can be good, even if steered properly. And we cling to the hope that our comfortable world remains as it has always been in our own vision.

Yet there is at least a part of us that understands that others, too, want to enjoy their own piece of Montana life. We don't want our valley to become overpopulated or defaced with mindless development after development, but we can certainly relate to why someone would pay a premium price to live here.

If developers can learn anything about their experiences in our wonderful valley, it may be first and foremost that developments are about bringing in neighbors. We'd like to meet our new neighbors and get to know them before we see them digging their foundation.

We'd like to meet them when they are considering buying the property and get to know them a little. The introductions may take a little time and have nothing to do with whether someone has the right to do anything on the property. It's really just about getting comfortable with the neighborhood.

The introduction process begins during the conceptual phase of development, not at the conclusion when actual people move into their beloved new homes. Developers may find that their concept needs to evolve, and existing property owners can help developers find a way to fit the development right into the neighborhood.

And the sooner those introductions begin the better, for everyone involved.