More Fences!

I was up here last night pretending to be doing some work, when i heard Margret next door talking to her boy, "Sparky" (not his real name). Sparky doesn't throw a ball very well, having learned from his father, Bill, who also doesn't throw very well. So, whether he meant to throw north or not, the ball must have gone west as I heard Margret admonish him and Lilly the dog, to "stay out of Ferrerman's garden".

"That's our garden!" Sparky protested. "Dad said so!"

I usually do not pay attention when they habitually negotiate EVERYTHING with their boy but, this aroused my curiousity. How could my carrots be their carrots?

Margret explained to Sparky that the iron near the edge of the back fence- that one right there with the red plastic ribbon on it- was a property iron, demarcing their property and Ferrerman's. The kid wasn't having any of it. "DAD SAID IT'S OUR GARDEN!"

Hmmm. In a few dozen salutations and conversation with Bill, somehow this had never come up. You would think that this issue might have arose when I planted the seeds or while I daily tended to 'maters and broccoli in the other patch nearby. But, it never did. I can't say that Bill ever said "your" when referring to my garden but I know that he never said "my".

Now, it's possible that Sparky totally misunderstood his dad's take on ownership of the garden. It's also possible that just once the boy actually listened to his dad and it was when dad told him about the garden. But, I've got to believe that if a guy has the temerity to browbeat one neighbor into building a fence she doesn't want, he might also be delusional (if not un-informed) about property lines. I had laid the carrot plot out after eye-balling Mr. O's old fence, leaving myself about a foot and a half on the side to access from Bill's side. Not being anal, I didn't measure. This wasn't rocket science. Regardless, the aforementioned property iron proves I was well within my own address, something I already knew.

In highschool I took a business law class. I always wondered why. The one thing I remember from the class is the story the teacher told of how someone who lived on a corner lot had allowed a neighbor to cut across his yard and that, after something ridiculous like 20 years, the neighbor sued and won ownership of the yard because of that access. Do WHAT now!? The law is hilarious when it's being taken so seriously. But, I remembered too my Dad's tale of neighbors back in Ohio who each year tried to encroach there garden onto our property. Dad was a Civil Engineer, with a glance he could spot property markers of any kind, anywhere. Each year he had to re-educate those neighbors and they had to retreat their garden.

Since Bill isn't likely to bring this up anytime soon, I will. His quest for yard domination must be stopped now before he builds an army and aquires tanks. (I learned that in History class). And, I'm thinking that I need to stop Lilly from cavorting in my backyard as well. The ashen look on Margret's face when I broached the idea of a fence now speaks to that. There just might be some weird law regarding that and it mightcould be that Bill has thoughts of coveting my entire backyard for Lilly's enjoyment and Sparky's errant ball throwing. Or maybe Bill was a Cattle Baron in a previous life and he just hates sodbusters.

Well, no one wants a range war. Sometimes they just happen. A fence is not in the budget now. A little conversation and a suppy of Liquid Fence is. I guess good fence's DO make good neighbors. That's a shame.