Twelve years ago Paul Kolinsky found the perfect lot to build a new home in east Orange County.

Quiet street. Great schools. A two-story home with a spacious floor plan.

But the real selling point, the reason Kolinsky paid a premium for his lot in EastWood, speaks for itself.

“Here,” he said, gesturing toward large sliding glass doors in the living room. “This is why I moved here.”

He pulled back linen curtains to reveal a pond shaped like a small, meandering stream and the trimmed, green turf of EastWood Golf Club. The 15th tee is just outside Kolinsky’s pool screen. Off in the distance is a densely wooded conservation area.

For the middle of busy, sprawling suburbia covered in concrete, it’s quite a view.

And well worth the investment because other than a few stray balls, what could be bad about living on a golf course?

At least, that’s what Kolinsky thought.

“No one will ever build there,” he said. “Those were the words that actually came out of our mouths.”

Now he’s grappling with a very different reality.

“We have no idea what’s going to be there,” he told me.

If you’ve been following the plague that is wiping out Central Florida’s golf courses, EastWood is the latest to fall ill.

The course is still open, but its owners have applied for a zoning change that could replace many of the fairways with new homes, shops, even a middle school.

This is becoming routine in Central Florida.

Sabal Point. Winter Springs. Lake Orlando. Rolling Hills.

Golf isn’t as popular as it once was and there are too many courses in Central Florida.

Plans to redevelop them are a natural correction of an over-built market.

But there is nothing natural about getting a letter in the mail that says what you consider your backyard could disappear.

“I opened the letter and whoa, whoa, whoa … what’s this?” Kolinsky said. “It’s shocking.”

This is what it must have been like to live on a citrus grove in the ’80s when so many of them began disappearing faster than the Mars bars in my kids’ Halloween basket. (Kids: Mom, have you seen those? Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about.)

Only, most people didn’t pay a premium for lots on a citrus grove.

“We purposely bought on this side [of the development] … the view is the reason we bought here,” said Rich Spence.

He’s one of Kolinsky’s neighbors in EastWood, a development of more than 2,000 homes tucked between Waterford Lakes and Avalon Park.

EastWood, like nearby Stoneybrook, is a golf community.

A sign inside the neighborhood touts “A way of life.” The main drag is called Golfway Boulevard.

And the course is still played so much that Kolinsky’s 11-year-old son recently fished about 300 balls out of the pond near their yard.

Titleist. Callaway. Ultra.

Old egg cartons filled with balls cover a section of Kolinsky’s pool deck. When his son is feeling entrepreneurial he sells them to players who motor by in carts.

Kolinsky jokes he could one day end up with a Wawa in his backyard, though that seems unlikely given Orange County’s land development rules.

His son would have to get a new side business.

Little is known about the actual development plans or timeline.

The county letter alerted homeowners that a zoning change could allow up to 304 homes and 75,000 square feet of commercial space plus a school or a park.

Hundreds of residents have signed a petition opposing the change and a strong showing is expected at a county meeting on Wednesday to discuss the plan.

There are worries about sinking property values. Traffic. The impact on schools.

The game of golf doesn’t have as many fans today, but a golf course with its green space and expansive views is still considered by many to be a very desirable neighbor.