Millpond semi-revived

One of the best known songs from the classic musical South Pacific features the line about washing "that man out of my hair," and while I was sitting by the millpond and watching the water, swollen by our recent rains, cascade over the rocky dam, those words, albeit a bit changed, bubbled up. I had walked past the development abomination at the bottom of my road, and in the course of my trek, I noticed a ragged sign that confirmed what I had guessed was going on. Over the past few days, I'd heard muffled explosions that didn't sound like they were coming from heavy equipment; the sign read, "Danger—Blasting," which, of course, meant that the perpetrators of a crime against nature were dismantling the ledge that, earlier, I was told wasn't there, with dynamite, the use of which I wasn't at all certain was allowable without a special permit. I made some phone calls to the town administrators to ask about legalities, but when I watched the water, I sure wished that I could wash the whole nightmare out of my hair... and my life. I have some ideas about where I'd like to send the developers.