The Rest Will Follow

It's not a farm, really, without a fence. There must have been a few here but nearly all evidence is gone now. We still have a rusty, leaning, wire fence that cuts through the pasture but it's not too old. It once supported a grapevine but it was relieved of that job when the privet and hickories and a hundred other volunteers grew large enough to provide a higher, wider perch for it.

We liked how the pasture rolled lazily from the road up to the house and paused, perilously close to slipping down the wooded slope in back. It was so open. But the dogs live here, too, and they are notorious for making bad decisions when squirrels or cats are involved. And then there are our imaginary sheep and donkeys and goats. They will be real enough next year and they'll need all the protection we can offer.

Norman Vincent Peale once said "Throw your heart over the fence and the rest will follow."

Well, now the dogs have room to roam. Safely. And while the livestock aren't quite secure yet, they aren't actually real yet anyway. So there's time for that. The pasture stops now, just north of the house but there is still a little eddy of it off to the side so it's never too far away. There's a bell to ring by the new farm gate, too, so we'll know when you come by to visit.

So now we have a fence. And we've already thrown our hearts over it. The rest, then, will certainly follow.