Early on at the ranch, while we were still in escrow, I was driving by and venturing progressively further onto the property by the day. As the tenants receded, I advanced, doing small things to relieve the “Dust Bowl” look of the place. It was futile. That didn’t stop me.
One day I noticed the fence along the road was down—rusty barbed wire and grey lichen covered grape stakes (this area was known as “The Vineyards”). The fence was obviously an opportunity to make a statement. So on another look by I drove into the meadow on the inside of the fence, now flat in the weeds. I parked under an oak tree and Kiwi, our Aussie/lab, relaxed in the shade. Carefully stood the fence back up, drove pipes next to the grapestakes, and wired them together.
My location and task were highly symbolic. Securing the perimeters…that was part of it, but…it was sort of like making a painting only bigger. Kiwi really got it. She was cool like that. She seemed content as soon as we got to work. I used lines and a few other resources to pull things together along the road.
Now there are bee hives under that tree. I haven’t done any other work to it since that day with Kiwi. It’s been four, almost five years in December. The other day I cut an opening to allow access. Saw my old repair and realized how fast the time has gone. The fence still stands, and now, so do I.