Repainting the Fence

Two Saturdays ago, Rob and I repainted the dark green fence that runs along North Adams Street in front of our house. The old paint had really faded over the years. We installed the fence in 2007, and it hadn’t been painted since then.

Painting was fun because it was the first truly warm day of the year and for once I wasn’t cooped up in an office. I was out in the world, enjoying the spring. We were kneeling among the lyre-leaf sage and golden ragwort, and we could smell the festive aroma of our neighbors’ barbecues. Everybody was celebrating the season.

Bubbles, who is not actually our cat, was keeping us company, rolling around in the grass, looking cute. Rob and I were singing Gordon Lightfoot songs and cheerfully criticizing each other’s painting, blaming each other for drips and missed spots. Rob thought I was putting my paint on too thin. I thought he was putting his on too thick.

And so it went–a little arguing, a little singing. The air smelled of smoked pork and wisteria. It took us about four hours to finish the fence, and we admired it for the rest of the day.