The Big Green Fence

The Big Green Fence Life carried on behind the big green fence. It seemed negativity could not penetrate the faded paint outside. Depression, wars, lost their sting once one crossed that threshold. I remember my uncle home on leave dressed in his kilt and sporran. I did not know at the time that it would be the last visit of the man I recognized. He changed after the war as if Uncle Joe had vacated the premises. Uncle Stan was in the merchant Marine off of the east coast. He came home with a tattoo on his right arm. Time seemed slower at the pace of the children living in the grey stone house. We never feared strangers or playing alone outside because the fence, like a warm embrace, radiated love and safety. There were lawns of soft plush grass to roll in and once a pony came by for pictures. Flower beds well tended, jewels heaped here and there. All of this floats in my memory now a rainbow stream of myriad colours, softened by time and distance. The remnants of that peace remains grounded in my heart.