FROM the highlands of Tanay, where I now live, the landscape has begun to change. Quietly at first, then unmistakably. The hills remain green and the air still carries the cool breeze from Laguna de Bay, yet something new is rising along the ridgelines. I first noticed it not on the horizon, but on the road.At night, when traffic thins, convoys begin to move. Trucks inch forward carrying blades so long they seem to bend the highway around them. Branches have been trimmed — not whole trees felled, but enough to clear a path for objects far larger than these…