Mending fences and spring cleaning

For now the winter is past,
      the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth;
      the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
      is heard in our land.
            Song of Songs 2:11-12

My back neighbor’s having her fence replaced. Looking out the window yesterday to see where the pounding was coming from, I saw workmen removing the old panels, and stacking them in a truck. I could see my neighbor’s yard for the first time.

The grass looked greener than mine with manicured beds of shrubs, young trees and, maybe soon, flowers. My yard is full of bronze patches where creeping Charlie crowded out the grass, a humped area from last year’s attempted vegetable garden (I’ll be putting veggies in the front with the flowers this year) too many areas of river rocks (the previous owners’ preferred mulch), various young shrubs most of which were eaten to nubs last winter, and … well, you get the idea.

Anyway, I liked the visual distance that came with the removal of the fence. I wondered if she might consider not putting a new one in that section of the yard. Once the lilacs leaf out, we’d again have separation without that hard, flat surface. (It’s not likely, given the above descriptions. Still, it’d be nice.)

It was a sunny day, so I did a walkabout, noticing where the bleeding hearts and rhubarb were beginning to show, picking up debris, dreaming about what I’d like to do this season. Back by the lilacs, I stopped to look closer at her yard. Up close, the grass wasn’t greener. It looked fine, but also thin, like it’s had to deal with too many petrochemicals or been mown too short. There was a neat section of bricking, mossy and green, where I would’ve never seen it but for the fence being gone.

Spring is a time to notice what needs mending or has outlived its usefulness, what’s good and healthy and primed for growth, and what isn’t. She will do this with new fencing. I, with creating a rustic patio area from reclaimed stone pavers. They're stacked and waiting. Most of them are good, though I’ve noticed one is actually cement.

The witch hazel I planted last summer may not be salvageable after the rabbits ate so much of its bark. (As Eeyore said, “If you ask me, when a [thing] looks like that, it's time to find another one.’) Rabbits also ate away the base of the Sweet Autumn clematis that looked so full on the fence next to the lilacs last year. But it’ll come back.

In spring we clean up our yards and air out our homes. We celebrate the freshness of new beginnings. Spring can also be a season to reassess the things we cling to that no longer serve any good purpose.

• That fence looked nice, but do good fences really make good neighbors?
• I’ve kept these earrings for years because they were Grandma’s, but I don’t wear earrings. Am I ready to give them away?
• Jill’s finally realized that Pat only uses her to make himself look good. She says she’s letting that friendship go.

Making changes in our lives can be uncomfortable, but almost always leads us in better directions. That squirrel – flicking his tail more wildly than I’ve ever seen one move – might be at a loss without the accustomed highway across the fence to the garages, but I’m sure they’ll find another path. I’ve almost never regretted giving away anything in my path to simplicity. And we all deserve to be surrounded by friends who value us and act like it.

Until next time, have a blessed Holy Week.
I have some earrings to put in the donations bag.