HUNTER LAKE 9/100 THE FENCE

HUNTER LAKE 9/100 THE FENCE

“Do unto those downstream as you would have those upstream do unto you.”
― Wendell Berry

Henry went out to check his land, the pastures, the wetlands, the edges to his neighbors, as a Spring time ritual. He felt he had tucked the land in bed for the winter and now that it was waking up it was time to make sure everything was where it should be. The seasons change the land like they do all of us, ice and wind ravage a countryside and sometimes the winter protects it from drought with a thick blanket of snow, to kind of ready it for planting. So he walked the perimeter. His farm wasn’t that large, but represented history and family and the great country he was born in and built a life in for his children and grandchildren and all of that.

Spring comes early, late, wet, sometimes dry, but this one was different somehow, something had changed. The wind bit a little, he could feel it chafe his face, bring tears down, make him squint just like everyone else had for as long as the land held people. The people he was related to moved here over a hundred years ago.

The prairie grasses were springing up from the heavy snow. He loved how resilient they were once the weight had lifted. Just like anyone who lived on the prairie. They lie down flat under the wet snow and soak in everything they can. The land rests and minerals accumulate, perennials like the prairie grass and seeds and roots for flowers gather up enough resources to sprout and leaf once they see the light. Humans do that too. They wait out the Winter, gather with friends, plan for the Spring, take vacations, learn to love themselves and the lives they’ve chosen.

The walk down the driveway took a while, and he checked for new rock outcroppings, as the earth and ice changed and pushed the stones out, to make sure his tall 50 year old tree windbreak hadn’t broken from those 50 below and 50 mile an hour winds and heavy snowfall. They were intact. Only a few rocks had surfaced, some looked like huge boulders.

He went to the edge of the county road and stared both ways, might be a mile to his neighbors, but it wasn’t that bad out. He took out his cell, let his neighbor know what he was up to and started the trek. There wasn’t much of a shoulder, so he had to cross back and forth, dodging trucks every once in a while when other neighbors took the center of the road with their trucks to avoid the weak shoulder structure that had been partially demolished from Mother Nature’s usual revenge. Some of the land had already started to drain into the culverts, just a trickle this time of year. He wondered why it was so important to some. Were they going to start irrigation in hard times? Once the aquifers dried up would they use their back up drought resistant Monsanto grain?

He kept up the pace and kept checking. By the time he got down the road half a mile he saw the beginnings of the one story rambling add-on residence. The house was added onto like dominoes: flat rectangles to fulfill a new function for the growing family. It was clear that things hadn’t changed much. The door to the kitchen opened before he had a chance to knock on the door. He sat down for coffee in the country kitchen. Smells of freshly baked bread, cinnamon and sugary sweet, reminded him of why he returned to the valley.

“Hey I see you got a new fence.” Mark stood shoulders squared, tall as he talked. He poured the coffee from a Mr. Coffee carafe, brown stained. He sat with the chair pulled away from the table and teetered on the back legs. .

“No, what fence?” Henry grabbed for a syrupy roll.

“That one on the other side of your property, runs the full length, nice of you to put it up on your land, helps your neighbor out some, what with his being so trashed and all,” he said.

“I ain’t put up no fence, and you’re joking.”

“Oops,” he said, “shouldn’t have said anything, guess it’s not your fence.”

“But it’s on my property, you say?”

“Well, I was out driving just last week and I could see all these workers trampling on your property, using a post hole digger, and setting up, no really there were a lot of people on your property.”

“Looked like a lot of money I suppose, which you know I don’t have.”

“Hmmm, and you wouldn’t spend it like that, like a favor for your neighbor, to help him out.”

“I got other issues,” Henry said.

“Like your wetlands, and grassland, and keeping things balanced, you mean.”

“You know me!” A hard crack of laughter burst out of both of and then there was kind of a long silence.

“I suppose that guy thinks he can build on my land because I’m not paying attention, well if it’s true, I guess that’s gonna change.” Henry stood up.

“Hey, I get it, next time, I’ll check with you.”

“Or Alma, we’re the same.”

“Missed on this one, but you know, I got your back.”

“No problem.” Henry checked his cell and dialed Alma, as his tall figure ambled out the door, a proud outline of a figure that everyone knew.