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A partially buried jar of home-canned peas marks the kitchen where James Wheeler’s mother once cooked fried chicken. Stalks of crabgrass nod in the wind where the family gathered on the porch in the cool of an evening.

In place of a house that sheltered three generations, there’s now only red dirt, weeds and scattered debris from past lives.

Sometime this summer, through miscommunication or misunderstanding, a developer’s bulldozer came unbidden onto Wheeler’s land and demolished his family’s farmhouse, sweeping away the tangible reminders of those days.

“It can never be replaced,” said Wheeler, a 57-year-old accountant. “My grandfather built that house in the 1920s. My mother was raised in that house. My grandfather made the cabinets. I didn’t expect to lose those.”

Officials with the developer, Dallas, Ga.-based Centex Homes, were chagrined at what happened and promised to make it up to Wheeler.

Centex moved or demolished about 10 structures on the 83 acres around Wheeler’s property to make room for the Ansley at Pilgrim Hill, a rambling subdivision of about 335 homes.

“It was an unfortunate accident,” said Jay Thrower, Centex’s senior vice president. “Our property was next to his piece of property. There were a number of houses to be moved or removed on our property.

“A subcontractor went off-site and removed his house. Somewhere there was miscommunication between us and the subcontractor.”

He said the company was establishing checks and balances to keep such mishaps from occurring. In the meantime, company officials are talking to Wheeler about how to make amends.

“Our No. 1 concern is trying to make it right for him,” Thrower said.

Wheeler isn’t so sure that can be done.

“I’m going to wait and see what they offer,” he said. “They can’t pay me for the loss.”

Wheeler said he was stunned when his sister, Janice Chumley, called in late July to say the farmhouse had disappeared.

His mother’s cousin had driven by on her way home from a visit to a nearby cemetery and was startled to see the familiar landmark gone. She promptly called Wheeler’s sister, who called her brother to see if he had done anything with the property without telling her.

The next day, Wheeler went to the Forsyth County Sheriff’s Office.

“He came in with pictures of it,” Deputy Jean Garner said. “We’ve had mobile homes reported missing, but they were usually repossessed. I’ve been here since 1978, and this was a first.”

It didn’t take a lot of detective work to figure out that some workers on the property next door had gone overboard. The sheriff’s office decided it was an accident and, therefore, a civil matter.

In addition to demolishing the single-story house, workers took down an apple tree that had produced bushels and bushels of fruit that Wheeler’s grandfather would cut and dry for pies and snacks. The tree looks as if it were hit by a bomb.

The workers also tore down a smokehouse.

“I remember helping my grandfather kill hogs there,” Wheeler said. “We salted them and hung them in there.”

Today, just remnants remain on Wheeler’s 22 acres north of Cumming. A woman’s shoe. Faded prescription bottles. Broken glass. Boards. Some home-canned goods. Plastic jugs.

After his grandparents died, the house went to Wheeler’s mother. She moved into a retirement apartment three years ago, and the house had been vacant since. Although it had been broken into, it was in pretty good shape overall, Wheeler said. The roof was in good condition, and it was structurally sound. He said he checked on it about once a month, the last time in mid-June.