The Fence

They didn’t start the air compressor until after 9 am. A decent hour on a Saturday morning to allow neighbors so inclined to sleep in a bit. With all the fence boards they needed to replace, a nail gun would speed up the process tremendously.

I watched them from our upstairs porch where I sat gently working the stationary bike – PT for my knee. Paul and Rex finished the repair on one side and moved to the back corner of the yard. It was shady and a cool breeze began to blow – the welcome feel of the end of a hot Texas summer. No more 100 degree days, only pleasant 80’s with a few hours in the 90’s late afternoons. Paul exited the back gate and walked through the neighbor’s side yard to work on the other side of our fence. Our neighbor John came out to greet the guys. I could tell he wanted to see if the project was interesting enough to join in. Deep males voices. Strong manly handshakes. A friendly wave to John’s son Christopher.

The scene was so comforting. Peaceful. Ordinary. Middle America. A simple repair project. A Saturday morning. The smell of fresh cedar planks lying on the ground, soon to be standing like sentries along the edge of our yard. Early morning sun filtered through the trees. In between bouts of power tool noise birds perched on the freshly filled feeder. Friends and neighbors talking, discussing the project, working together to improve their property. The freedom to own something after working hard to to afford it, the desire to maintain what is yours while living peaceably in community. The satisfaction of fixing something yourself. The fun of doing it with the help of a friend.

Our world is changing so rapidly, much of it not for the better. Technology changes move us at light speed. Tolerance of traditional values is being driven downward. Terrorism and natural disasters bring us again and again to a place of fear. But for today, in this moment, we are in a pocket of peace, a nest of normality. And I love it.

Besides, the fence has to be repaired. So the yard will be ready for the new dog. People who know me well think I’ve lost my mind, and I suppose it’s possible. But I dearly love my husband, who dearly loved his black lab Duke . Enough to agree to let him have a puppy. As in right now he’s 2 weeks old. As in living through the house training-chewing-jumping-digging-hyper energy stages. I can’t talk about it anymore, I’m getting a headache. Just know that in a couple of months I will likely be blogging very regularly. Like Duke taught me, when you can’t shoot, blog…