How the Glory of a Good Fence Struck Me
I’ve been building a fence while building thoughts on returning to simplicity
Building a fence has enveloped my past few weekends. You can imagine that the process gave me lots of time to think. It’s quite a repetitive activity.
Dig a hole. Place a post. Backfill. Measure boards. Cut boards. Hammer Boards. Repeat.
It becomes a type of physical mantra that leaves a mind empty at first. Empty minds are magnets for fresh thoughts — positive and negative.
As the loose ends of my brain frequently do, I started considering oddities like how a good fence relates pretty well to the structure of life. And when I say, “a good fence,” I mean a fence that functions.
Most fences you see as you drive through suburbia wouldn’t hold up to the abuse that farm fences see when left to the mercy of animals. They’re form without function but maybe that is their function so, I digress.
A good fence needs support in all the right places. Small knots in wood, or superficial inconsistencies, can be ignored along the length of its boards; the effort should go towards the things that hold it up first — those being deep holes, hefty posts and planks of appropriate length. Then it can get a coat of paint to make it pretty.
Heck, really good fences don’t even need paint to look sharp but, I digress again (my thoughts on good fencing are so many that if I ever graced the Senate, I’d be known for filibustering with fence law).
So — life. What does the glory of a good fence have to do with that?
Fences are built differently depending on the animal they’ll be containing. Horses need tall sturdy fence. Wire, planks — even electric? Sure. Using wood boards for cattle, however? That would be one short lived fence.
Your neighbor, Ethel, would curse you upon watching your loose herd trample her tulips, too.
Goats need Fort Knox levels of fencing, while hardware cloth or chicken wire is best for poultry. The point is — different situations require different types of fence.
The supports of each individual’s life are unique, too. We each need a lot of pondering to figure out what basic supports work best. They differ from human to human.
Once those supporting posts are picked and dug deep into the ground? The planks hammered? Then worry can go towards paint and polish.
The really cool thing about that, though, is that structures built to function often look good already. When attention is put on the things that matter, all the extra frivolity and pomp isn’t needed.
My plank spacing is even. The posts that hold them are set in concrete. It’s uniform, functional and simplistically beautiful. It needs nothing else.
When I concentrate on the things I know matter to me the most, I don’t feel the need to seek out all the extras. That hole — that something missing — doesn’t exist so I don’t have to go looking for what would fill its void.
My life’s sturdy posts are made up of health, long term purpose, creativity and family. If one of those falls to the wayside, and I start reaching for extras that don’t matter, my metaphorical fence doesn’t function and I start grasping for things to fill the void.
I sometimes grasp at farming dopamine hits from likes on social media — either that or repeatedly beating my head against a wall as I try to profit from hobbies because everyone else is doing it. That stuff never makes me feel complete. They appear to fill a void but it’s all just smoke and mirrors.
Smoke and mirrors won’t hold back the herd of cattle from Ethel’s tulips, will it?
Life needs support in all the right places just as a fence does. Function comes before form and even becomes it sometimes, when done well enough.
My post hole digging, measuring and hammering emptied my mind then lead me towards the realization that the best answer is usually the simplest in nature.
So today’s lesson — courtesy of a good fence — is to simplify when something feels missing. Return to the basics you know that help you function, then worry about all the extras.
Simple support systems make up the glory of a good fence and a good life.
It’s at our own peril that we ignore them — and I guess at the peril of Ethel’s tulips, too.
Keep the magic alive- Elle.
. . .
I'm on Bluesky if anyone wants to connect.
Disclaimer: This piece was originally posted on Medium, December 2024.
About the Creator
Elle M. Athens
Raising horses, plants & kids | Writing about that life with a twist of country reality.
Also writing fiction based around country settings, horses and mystery~
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Comments (2)
I would love to have more content about your farming activities! This was a great piece told from your unique perspective, great work!
Such a clever comparison between fences and life! You nailed it—focus on the basics, and everything else falls into place. Ethel’s tulips definitely thank you! Simple but powerful.