Mending Fences

I don't know why, but I find myself so attracted to picket fences. Sometimes I think this is because the house I grew up in had a backyard surrounded by a white picket fence. My parents received many compliments on how neat our yard always looked. Each week the grass was cut with our manual push lawn mower that had the rotating blades and the little aluminum-bottom grass catcher. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the whirring, clickety-clackety sound it made.

The grass along the sidewalk was alway trimmed with the edger. Again, this was done with a manual tool that consisted of a stick with a rotating blade on it. You know, the one that jabs you in the stomach every time it gets jammed up on a crack in the sidewalk.

Each week grass along the sidewalk, driveway and street curb was not only edged, but swept out of the groove and picked up with the dust pan. I can remember my dad washing down the driveway and the street curb afterwards to make sure nothing was left behind.

My mom meticuluously maintained our lilac bushes, climbing roses, lily of the valley, irises, coral bell flowers and honey suckle. Weeds were not allowed. I distinctly remember cutting lilac branches and wrapping them in wet paper towels and tin foil to take into my teachers. The smell of lilacs to this day sends me right back to fourth grade.

Every few years they would scrape down the picket fence and repaint it so it always looked fresh and white. I remember thinking "you're crazy!"

Today I realize how much I loved that house and how secure it made me feel and how secure they made me feel. As an adult I realize how grateful I am for all the values my parents instilled upon me.

As the year draws to a close, I will be spending these last few days tending to my "gardens" and smelling the flowers along the way. I will also be working to mend and repaint any of my fences that have fallen into disrepair over the year. Thanks mom and dad for everything you have bestowed upon me. I am truly blessed.