Over the years, our wooden fences have begun to return to the earth from whence they came. One such fence had stoically held its place in time well beyond what one can ask. It was weary and pleading for a replacement. Also, the bittersweet vines that the fence supported had become entangled and dead branches prevented new growth from tapping into the plant's maximum energy source. Side by side, Dick and I breathed new life back into what had become a scene reminiscent of Miss Havisham's mansion in Charles Dickens novel Great Expectations or the beyond overgrown garden described in Frances Hodgson Burnett's classic novel Secret Garden. I meant to take a before photo,
but the fresh rails and end posts and the pile of dead twigs and leaves we removed tells the story.