Robert Frost wrote a poem called “Mending Wall”.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
He is all pine and I am apple-orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down!” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
This poem says much, which can be condensed with the old Czech saying, “Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends.” I would rather have friends than fences and walls, wouldn’t you? So much strife and bitterness amongst people, and the violence is horrible. Dean & I have a place we go where fences are not necessary, except clever ones to keep the deer out. It is Boone Hollow Farm in Defiance, Missouri. It is where our greenhouse takes home. There are no fences or walls to divide the lots between tenants, we each just know where our own spot begins and ends. Even our dog, Midnight knows. Caring and sharing is the attitude, so refreshing. I anticipate a great growing season, growing herbs and vegetables as well as friendships in this community.
You were wondering what this “Suzy homemaker” is blogging about now? I love to write with imagination and humor. No crudeness or lewdness. Everything in spicy good taste. On Saturday and Sunday I came home from an afternoon of selling spices and gift items to tourists and locals, and the odors of the shoppe just lingered. My hair permeated tea garden green. Better tea in my hair than hair in my tea! My unmentionables became a basilly brassie braissre, a chamomile chicy chamisole, and a perfectly peppermint pair of panties. Yes, life has gotten spicy to say the least! I cannot say that I reeked with herbs and spices, because these fragrances were pleasant. No lacy lingerie, just enjoyed my weekend at the Olde Town Spice Shoppe, talking with foodies and sharing my 2-cents worth on herbs, spices, and recipe creating. Though Dean and I grabbed a day off mid-week before one of our busiest weekends with the farmers’ markets and spice shoppe. The planned weekday rendezvous with my hubby promises to be spicier yet! 
Deanna Greens and Garden Art 