Cold Front
The wind blew, the lightning flashed, and it rained. One tenth of an inch. A tiny bit anticlimactic. Now the wind is blowing like it has something to celebrate. Slats have come off the fence. Decorations are on the ground. And the trees are shaking. The temperature is in the 50s. That’s nice. But rain. Seasonal fronts are coming, but no storms. At least not here. I am resigned.
I worked on my big fence around the back lots yesterday. Bought some slats. Bought some screws. Gathered up my tools and got after it. It occurs to me this should be a normal routine. Ride the fence. Look for loose nails. Replace them with screws. Tighten things up. Keep it ship-shape. Although, that might be an inappropriate metaphor for a land based operation. Still, you work with what you’ve got and that’s what I have. I know it sounds slap-dash, but it will do.
The two fence gates I took down are hanging by the ropes I used to temporarily attach them to the pool deck. I’m going to screw them down today and give them a proper home. As I said before I consider them folk art and want to display them. I’m even going to get them off the ground. That will take some doing, but I will do it, and having done it I will stand back and be satisfied even though others looking at the work might wonder what the hell is going on here? And I hope they ask, because I will tell them.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale