The 3-foot-high grape-stake fencing that lines my property is showing its age. On one side, the fence has been overwhelmed by a neighbor’s newer, higher, and more solid privacy fence.
In back, the same fencing separates our yard from an apple orchard. The small gate has completely fallen over, and deer, raccoons, humans, and other creatures pass through without a thought.
My fence, in other words, might easily be viewed as a very poor example of the type of fencing this book seeks to help you design, build, and maintain. It is largely useless and mostly overlooked and can barely stand on its own any more. You, to the contrary, want a fence that serves a vital function, looks great, and can be expected to be standing strong years from now.
That, at any rate, is one way of looking at it. Here’s another: I like my fence. It, like my house, is nearing 70 years of age, and, also like the house, it was built with a high level of quality and integrity. The hundreds of hand-split redwood stakes that define the fence are, for the most part, still solid and free of rot.
The wood’s well-earned patina — wrinkles, pockmarks, and all — exudes the sense of pride that living a long, healthy life commands. Once I’ve finished remodeling the interior of the house, I’ll turn my attention to that old fence. I’ll remove parts of it and reuse some of the stakes for garden fencing.
And if I decide I really have no use for the rest of the other stakes, I’ll sell them. Good quality grape stakes are much in demand here in California wine country. My old fence embodies the essence of sustainable building practices — no landfills required. The next time I build a new fence, it’s a lesson that will drive my design.