We finally got around to putting up the rest of our back fence that Hurricane Ike took out three years ago. Wow. Three years. Sounds like a long time, but sure feels like just last week. Especially since most of the people here in Galveston who went through it now date everything by it. A popular preface to any conversation is "Well, before the storm …" It's kind of a rite of passage to living on a barrier island to go through at least one major hurricane.
So, a 42 foot section of our back fence was destroyed. It was one of those six foot privacy fences that you can roll out and wire onto an existing chain link fence. We figured, "How hard could it be to unroll it and wrap little strips of wire around the slats every so often?" So we decided to give it our best shot.
We weren't sure how much fence was in each roll. We had three rolls of different sizes that were supposed to equal around 42 feet. It was every bit of the fencing they had left, since the manufacturer went out of business. We manhandled the first and biggest one over near the fence and started unrolling, propping it against the chain link as we went along. About twenty feet. Chris held one end as I started the process of cutting wire and deciding where best to attach it. I was in the little alcove area on the side of our house where we have about four or five feet between the house and the fence. Cailyn was playing in the yard. And a gust of wind came through.
I was just about to feed my first anchor wire through the fence when it happened. I heard it first. A scraping sound. Chris' muffled "Oh." And Cailyn's excited, "DadDad, I see you." As I turned it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Chris was ducking and moving away from her end as it slowly surged toward her. The top of the fence slowly leaned further and further toward her head, and like a stack of dominoes, the rest of the fence was following suit. Instinctively I raised my left hand above my head to try to hold off the impending blow. With my right hand I reached pout toward Cailyn, who by that time was almost within my grasp, running for a DadDad hug. Through sheer force of will I was able to match her frolicsome demeanor with a smile and a "Come here, you." I figured I could protect her by throwing my body between her and the crashing burden approaching. About that time she realized what was happening. Well, she realized something was happening. And it sure looked like fun. A tent. DadDad was building a tent. She reached my arms just before … the six foot fence hit the side of the house, stopping its descent just short of our tensed bodies.
Wow. That sounded more exciting than when it happened. I guess that's because I left out the fact that the fence didn't really weigh all that much once it was unrolled. I've slept under heavier blankets. That's why it was so easy for the wind to knock it over. And I guess it did make a pretty cool tent. Didn't last long, though. Chris was frantically trying to stand it back up, walking it like one of those big ladders you raise one rung at a time. I hesitated just a moment, winked at Cailyn and grinned, and joined Chris in her efforts. We used some old 4X4 posts we had to prop it up while we worked.
It took us two days, but we finally got it up. Part of it kind of leans to the left, but we made some adjustments in the final section so it's not that noticeable. Check one more thing off our Hurricane Ike to-do list. And chalk one more thing up to keeping a positive attitude in the midst of a near crisis, thanks to Cailyn and her adventure-of-the-fence-tent smile.
Ecclesiastes 10:20 says, "Do not revile the king even in your thoughts, or curse the rich in your bedroom, because a bird of the air may carry your words, and a bird on the wing may report what you say."
Father, I always wondered where that saying, "a little birdie told me" came from. Thanks for protecting us from run-away fences. Amen.
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