A fence used to span the back edge of our property. It blew down years ago in a winter storm. Since my husband and I grew up in the midwest and east where houses are not enclosed with fences—and because we are not energetic caretakers--we have not replaced the fence. Backing up to our fenceless lot is a large grassy field with a nursing home on the other side. The only activity at the far end of that grassy lot is the staff shift change and the weekly garbage pick-up.
At least once a year, we talk about whether or not we should spend the money to replace the fence. And every year, we surmise that it seems unnecessary. There are so many other purposes for our funds that a fence just never rises to the top of the list.

When we’re feeling especially needy for relief from the valley fog or heat, we drive to the Monterey Bay—our favorite spot in California where the only fence is the shoreline. We’re not sun bunnies, but we gravitate toward a particular beach in Pacific Grove where the tide pools continue to fascinate us long after we stumbled across it many years ago when the boys were younger.
At the end of the day, we always return to our fenceless home--renewed by the image of sea foam or fertile valley.
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