I must be crazy. That is the only way to explain how I seem to enjoy living in a constantly evolving construction zone. I get bored when my surroundings don't change often enough, and I like it when something new is ripped apart and littered with tools and supplies.
Thus it is that I'm enjoying seeing the Mister and a young friend of ours working in the back, pulling out that ugly chain link perimeter, and setting the posts for a new stockade fence. Today was exciting for me, and blissfully I didn't have to do any of the work. I had homework for school, and the limit of my exertions was to drive to Safeway to get a rotisserie chicken and pre-made salads for lunch. The men rolled up the chain link and dug deep holes, mixed concrete (bringing down our price-per-use on that large electric concrete mixer to next to nothing), and set in place a row of sturdy posts every eight feet, all without me lifting a finger or carrying anything heavier than the plastic level. It felt like luxury not to fetch and carry in the South Carolina heat that made the last giant fence less fun to be around. This one is much smaller, by let's say 65%, and correspondingly less expensive. I imagine it will go up rather quickly, and then it will be up to me to spend the winter scheming about what I will plant along its inner perimeter. I already suggested leaving the metal posts from the chain link in place, to reduce construction time and effort, and to provide supports for trellises that will someday be covered in climbing roses or grapes. The more I plant along the fence, the less the dogs will be able to see through and bark at pedestrians in the alley.
Amazingly, all three dogs have respected the edge of the property, even without either fence fully in place. While the men were out working, the pups were more than happy to lie around in their own territory, barely approaching the open edge. It still surprises me to have dogs that don't want to take off across the neighborhood at the slightest weakness in the border defenses. I once had to rescue my two dogs from the far side of town, where they had cruised to freedom, apparently hitching a ride on a trash truck full of the foulest rotting garbage in the land. (The girls and I rode home with our heads hanging out the car windows, while the dogs seemed unaware of the critical level of their own stink. Animals.) While our cats were polite enough to remain in the yard as long as the fence was there, two of them tried to bolt to freedom today when the fence was gone. I was told that while I shopped, Alfred took a jaunt down the alley, not wanting to let his father recapture him. While we were eating lunch, I looked out by the trash cans and thought, "Hm. There is a fat, black...." and that was as far as I got before I realized the screen door was slightly ajar and that was Jacqueline setting one big paw into the alley. I dropped my fork and ran out to get her, and then I collected Athena who calmly came out of the garden as if nothing was amiss. Just what I needed, chubby housecats who have no street smarts, wandering outside of their garden walls. I don't want them even to know there is a world outside of that fence. It would only make it more difficult to keep them close to home if they think there's more to discover. I like it best when they respect the walls.
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