Fence Built Right

The 50 yard stretch of fence has irked me since we moved in. In a perfect world, I would have replaced it long ago. But fresh paint, a bathroom vanity, and various other projects in our new home were more important than the inconspicuous collection of posts and chain link masquerading as a legitimate fence. 

But soon our horses realized the fence was a complete disaster and began leaning over the fence to steal a few delicious bites of our neighbor’s green grass. The chain link began to bow against their weight and each morning I woke fully expecting to see our three horses in our neighbors yard interspersed with his chickens. 

My legendary ability to look past things eventually wore thin and I couldn’t handle it. A new fence was needed. 

I bought a bundle of 16 foot wood rails and eight foot posts, and began tearing down the old fence. My theory was the previous fence assembler (builder is too generous of a descriptor)  must have been inebriated, highly distracted, or both during construction. Weak copper electrical wire was used instead of strong fencing wire. A hodgepodge of hog panels was used to finish the last 20 feet when Home Depot apparently ran out of chain link fence. And worst of all...the wood posts were not on uniform eight foot centers. They ranged anywhere from 7 to 13 feet. This was quickly turning into a bigger mess than I originally thought. 

When I was in first grade my favorite assignment was when we were handed a page of 100 multiplication problems and timed to see how fast we could complete it. Accuracy was irrelevant to me, the assignment was simply a measure of speed. I wish I could say my love for efficiency and completion has matured into a deep appreciation of accuracy. But the little boy who raced to get his math problems is alive and well in me and often has the last word when working on projects. 

Luckily I recognized my compulsive need for speed had to be throttled back if this job was going to be done right. I removed the rat’s nest of hog panel and chain link and slowly began digging holes for new wood posts on eight foot centers that would fit the 16 foot rails. Fortunately the soil was more sand than clay, but even so, the digging and setting of posts blistered my hands and soaked my shirt. I slowly chipped away at the 50 yard stretch...

Dig a 30 inch hole for the post
Tamp and set the post.
Repeat for a second post. 
Attach three rails onto the newly created 16 foot span.   
Repeat. 

(Not only did I have the wisdom to start this project at the end of June, but I also decided to work during the middle of the day. Needless to say the weather could not have been better and I never got hot. )

One day my father in law graciously came over to help me. HIs skillset is exceeded only by his humility. And he embodies the cliche “A job worth doing is worth doing right.” Each time I work alongside him not only do I learn a handful of practical skills, I relearn that speed is a poor measure of the merit of your work. 

We were about three fourths done with the project when my neighbor to the east walked out into his backyard and looked out at us. It should be noted that he is a good neighbor - he gave a rope swing to my son, he’s quick to smile, and is enjoyable to talk to. And, he has mastered the art of the veiled passive aggressive criticism. Questions like why I feed our horses so much or why I don’t put more water on our compost are always sprinkled with enough skepticism to make me feel like a moron but not enough to warrant a verbal spat between the two of us. I looked over at him and smiled and waved. 

“You guys are working hard,” he shouted. 

“Yep, trying to get this finished,” I said between panting breaths as I tamped a post. 

“Sure looks like a lot of work to me,” he said. 

My words came out before I could stop them. Maybe it was months of pent-up frustration with him, maybe it was because I wanted to impress my father in law, or maybe it was because I needed to remind myself. Either way I shot back, 

“Yep, that’s the way it is with most good things in life.” 

He nodded his head and walked back in the house. 

I finished that 50 yard stretch of fence a couple weeks ago. It’s not perfect, but it’s done right. It wasn’t fast, but it’s something I’m proud of. When faced with efficiency or accuracy, I hope I remember that fence. When tempted to cobble an assignment, relationship, or endeavor with electrical wire and hog panel - I hope I remember the fence and choose the slow and needed work that I’d usually look past. 

What slow and meaningful work awaits you? 

Jesse French
Restoration Project Chief of Next Steps