We're at a point where we're starting to fix our previous fencing mistakes. Not the mistakes made by others, but our own errors in planning. There's a fair bit of fencing that we've managed to correct the past few days and it's made a huge difference in how we enjoy our new patio and backyard.
We've completely removed a section of fence and replaced this with a stretch of fence that runs in line from the house. We've put in a seven foot gate that we can open and gain direct access to the pond and the waterfall. It's mesmerizing. Friends bought us some anti-gravity chairs and I put them on the lower flagstone patio and stare at the waterfall listening to the comforting tinkle of water and feeling myself turn to liquid. This is a great way to relax, but is not over conducive to being productive.
We keep pushing posts and then pulling them out dissatisfied with their positioning. We'll wire and unwire to metal post. We fight with horse shoe nails and bent nails and nails too old to still do anything. We cut our limbs on bits of exposed fence. I can't remember my last tetanus shot as a rusty piece of fence scores an angry laceration up my calf.
Once we get the gates hung and ensure the fencing is secure we look at the last stretch of fencing to be finished. This is a thirty foot piece that is most prominent when you pull in the driveway.
We spend at least two days, possibly more discussing how we want this bit to look. Brent wants a solid sixteen foot gate so it's easy to still drive the backhoe or truck and trailer into the backyard. I want it to be manageable by one person and to look solid.
We debate, argue and finally decide that this is my project and Brent will be the saw man. I have drawn out the idea on paper and it will require quite a bit of material, but it's stuff we already have due to our great salvaging skills.
Using a six and a half by four foot piece of steel mesh that was once the table top in a greenhouse operation I use the hardwood slabs to build a frame. I build two separate gates that meet in the middle and are secured by two pieces of hardwood two by fours slid through a series of planks. It looks like it could hold in a rhino, so I think my three little under ten pound puppies will be safe (technically Poco is a whopping thirteen pounds).
I have one piece left and I'm trying to maneuver an eight foot by six and half foot wide piece of steel mesh when my finger gets caught between another piece of mesh leaning on the fence and the pain is incredible.
I can't look as I feel the exposed nerve ends firing in excitement. The drops of red blood splash in the mud and on the pavement and I squeeze my finger and try to cut out the pain.
After a few minutes and a bout of nausea I look at my damaged finger and it looks like I tried to put it through an industrial cheese grater. The skin is shredded on the one side and the finger nail is already turning a dark purple, but the most fascinating trauma is the crack that runs horizontally across the lower half of my finger nail.
Brent takes a quick look, turns pale and gets me a bandaid. I just want to cover it up so the air doesn't hurt it so much. After an appropriate pause he says "well, that's not going to be healed in time for the wedding."
I stare at him in surprise and he follows this comment up with "I guess you can just paint the skin on that finger to match the rest of your nails".
I swear I can hear him giggling as he walks away. I smile, knowing he's right. I wonder if I can paint the skin?
To date - I have yet to finish my fence line.
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