Here in the south there exists an infinite array of fences.  To the untrained eye, any two fences may be just the same.  Yet, upon further inspection, the permutations abound.  One trip through a historic neighborhood could produce half as many types of fences as there are houses on the streets, and each one tells a bit of a story about the neighbor to one side or the other.  Since I started paying attention I have noticed some absolutely incredible fences here in my own neighborhood.  Some of them really make me wonder about the predilections held by whomever commissioned their construction. Still others maintain an almost mystical manner as they rise to meet the challenges of upholding the duties of fence-hood.  On the streets of the French Quarter in New Orleans, I was surprised to see razor wire perched atop the eight foot tall wooden pickets.  I also witnessed living fences on Adam Turtle’s farm in Tennessee made of consecutive rows of blackberry brambles and thorny trifoliata oranges, also known as ‘the flying dragon’.  Neither of the previous examples mean to be welcoming and hospitable.  The former attempts to repel the vandals and vagrants of the French Quarter and the latter intends to keep the deer away from the corn, beans, and squash.  Unfortunately, both thankless tasks are becoming increasingly necessary in many places, especially for someone trying to get a decent crop of produce.

The following photographs offer a few glimpses of a fence I completed earlier in the year at the residence of Michele Sneed.  The cedar picket fence with an arbor welcomes guests to the house, while the game fence bordering the three sides facing the fields and forest will deny access to the burgeoning and hungry deer population of the area.  With a few ripe muscadines dangling from arbor out front, hopefully this fence will remain welcoming and hospitable, meanwhile keeping those hungry deer at bay.

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