Fenced In

It’s a beautiful, cloudless day.  The temperature is in the high forties and is expected to be in the fifties all next week.  My husband made his annual trek to the garage attic this morning, handing down posts and fencing and plastic containers.  This afternoon, after the sun begins to warm the back yard, Squints and I decide to put the garden fence up.

In this high-brow neighborhood, it’s a low-brow affair: Ugly metal fence secured with white twine to green posts hammered into the ground every three feet or so.  And I keep telling myself, as I do every year, I want to grow more; I want to do more; I want to have more land. 
I pause in my hammering and watch Squints tying the fence to a post.  Outside Cat pounces at the fence and grabs at the twine.  Squints laughs and cuts a new piece of twine.  “You’re not going to get over this fence, Cat,” he says.  “No more messing in the garden.”  He pauses.  “Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah?”
“Think I have any strawberries yet?”


“No.”
“Can I look?”

“Sure.”
He drops the twine and pulls back the straw we put down last fall.  I set down my hammer to join him and discover that his strawberries have come through the winter beautifully.

And then I take a step back and look at our tiny, hopeful garden and I tell myself it is enough for now: Squints is learning how to grow his own food.  He’s learning the cycle of nature.  He celebrates strawberries grown in the back yard.

We finish and put away our tools and Squints runs over to the neighbor’s house to play. 
Not content to return to the house yet, I head to my perennial bed where I cut away last summer’s foliage and find green shoots peeking up from the ground.




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Writing in the Margins, Bursting at the Seams: Fenced In

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Fenced In

It’s a beautiful, cloudless day.  The temperature is in the high forties and is expected to be in the fifties all next week.  My husband made his annual trek to the garage attic this morning, handing down posts and fencing and plastic containers.  This afternoon, after the sun begins to warm the back yard, Squints and I decide to put the garden fence up.

In this high-brow neighborhood, it’s a low-brow affair: Ugly metal fence secured with white twine to green posts hammered into the ground every three feet or so.  And I keep telling myself, as I do every year, I want to grow more; I want to do more; I want to have more land. 
I pause in my hammering and watch Squints tying the fence to a post.  Outside Cat pounces at the fence and grabs at the twine.  Squints laughs and cuts a new piece of twine.  “You’re not going to get over this fence, Cat,” he says.  “No more messing in the garden.”  He pauses.  “Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah?”
“Think I have any strawberries yet?”


“No.”
“Can I look?”

“Sure.”
He drops the twine and pulls back the straw we put down last fall.  I set down my hammer to join him and discover that his strawberries have come through the winter beautifully.

And then I take a step back and look at our tiny, hopeful garden and I tell myself it is enough for now: Squints is learning how to grow his own food.  He’s learning the cycle of nature.  He celebrates strawberries grown in the back yard.

We finish and put away our tools and Squints runs over to the neighbor’s house to play. 
Not content to return to the house yet, I head to my perennial bed where I cut away last summer’s foliage and find green shoots peeking up from the ground.




Labels: , ,

2 Comments:

At February 26, 2012 at 2:24 PM , Anonymous Bella said...

Kelly, Squints is a quite a guy! You're raising a fine young man. Yes, you are. And how lovely to see the rewards of your labor! :)

 
At February 26, 2012 at 2:46 PM , Anonymous kgwaite said...

Thanks, Bella!

 

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