I’d seen him working in his yard or heading to his truck, almost always dressed in camo, fishing rod in hand. He never smiled and barely looked up. I saw his wife even less often. A little reclusive, these neighbors of ours. They were obviously retired. We had moved in a few months ago and I was looking for an opportunity to say “hi” and extend a neighborly hand of friendship.
One afternoon I saw him out back. They lived right next door and he was repairing his fence that stood between our two backyards. I ventured outside, my doggy Sunny following me, and walked over to where he stood with his back to me, hammering away on the old planks of the fence. Continue reading
