Garden Fences Offer More Than Just Division

After a violent storm tore through the backyard this summer, I lost a couple of metres off the top of my spruce tree. The flower beds below were unscathed except for the giant foam flower that lay crumpled. That wasn’t the worst of it. The high winds also flattened a long stretch of fence that I’m now in the process of rebuilding, but it won’t be the same.

I like my fence. When I built it long ago, I didn’t want a standard board-on-board of pressure-treated lumber. Instead, I used old barnboard, delivered on a cattle truck from a farm up north. I like to think I saved it from a life in a basement rec room, being poked by pool cues. I knew it would contribute to a garden that was yet to be, a perfect backdrop for plants. At more than 100 years old, it had history and character. It was full of knotholes, wrinkles and bent rusty nails, and although faded at the time and long since vanished, it showed traces of ancient red paint. The overall colour is still a rich, brownish grey that lightens or darkens as the weather changes. I can’t quite forecast the weather with it, but I’m working on it.

Shrubs and tall perennials have grown up over the years and obscured it in places, and a long stretch down the side of the yard that was unaffected is almost completely hidden behind Boston Ivy. In spring, the ivy is a lush green and any day now glorious fall colours, but in winter when the leaves have fallen, the fence is visible again, artistically detailed by the snaking tendrils of the ivy, further enhancing the natural look. At the bottom of the garden it’s covered by Virginia creeper, a native plant, but I prefer the Boston version as it’s much tidier and far less aggressive.

Besides providing these appealing qualities, my fence has performed its normal duties exceedingly well. It’s been impervious to all large creatures as I can honestly say that not a single deer has ever leapt over it and no moose has ever blundered through my garden. It’s never been able to keep out squirrels, mice, moles or voles and raccoons, and a young rabbit has always managed to find a way in every spring. However, it has prevented dogs and children from escaping, the primary reason that we build fences around our yards.

Of course, we could do without fences. Garden writer Marjorie Harris once did an article on Toronto neighbours who’d forgone the divisive nature of a fixed barrier. Instead, they’d strategically placed shrubs and planters to act as the line of demarcation of their properties and agreed on maintenance and respect for each party’s privacy. This hearkens back to the days when carefree kids and their pets could roam at will. There’d be room to fly a kite, play a ball game, or invite the marching band over for practice. Unfortunately, none of these activities would be welcomed by a gardener.

It was a nice concept in the good old days, but not for everyone. Should ownership of the properties change, there could be problems akin to a border dispute between nations. This is the price of suburban living, and with tiny lots, rear yards are more often seen as an extension of the living room, with a need for privacy. I need my private space as much as the next person, but mainly to contain and protect the hundreds of plants that fill the space now.

 

My fence will rise again, and although that section won’t be barnboard, the giant foam flower will bounce back next year, shrubbery will again hide most of it, and the old spruce tree is tall enough.