The Fence

My children and I moved into our home last December, five days before Christmas.  That in itself must have caused the neighbors to question my sanity, and they had every right to wonder about the single mom who set up the Christmas tree before moving any of the furniture into the house. 

I could feel their nervous stares over the fence the morning I ran screaming down the driveway, beating the snow with a shovel (I was chasing a mouse.  Honest.)  They shook their heads at me the day they came home to find the three of us lying in a snow bank in our backyard.  They look bemused when Belle, our little cocker mix, tried to take down Sadie, their golden retriever. 

In the spring they watched as the rented tiller pulled me all over the yard and almost through the fence. They never said a word the day they saw me planting sticks in the yard and running string between them to help me visualize where my future gardens would go. They patiently pointed out the unruly mass of daisies that had overtaken a corner of my yard and threatened to impinge on theirs and even managed to smile when Miss Lo picked all of the daisies and threaded them through Sadie's collar. 

They have put up with Mr J's trumpet "concerts" in the backyard and Miss Lo's loud singing.  They watched as nine screaming eight-year old girls piled into a pool meant for four.  They pretended not to see anything the night I treated my sweet G to a candlelit dinner in the backyard. 

Today I could feel them glancing out their back door while I knelt in the garden in the pouring rain and harvested my tomatoes and lettuce (rain = no mosquitos).  I'm quite sure they heard my delighted squeal when I discovered a bean plant with tons of nice plump green beans ready for the picking and probably even chuckled to themselves as my tomatoes kept falling out of my bowl.   

I've heard it said that good fences make good neighbors.  I'm sure my neighbors and I are in agreement when I say this....  we need a bigger fence.