be careful

  It was just a homemade wooden gate in an old stone wall but it is stuck in my memory. I wonder why such things as that happen. I didn't use that gate, just knew it was there. I'm quite certain it has long since returned to the earth. It was made of some logs, not too large, maybe three or four inches in diameter. A basic square with an x shape in the middle. Those logs seemed ancient to me then and that was over fifty years ago now. Great Grandfather Lester had built that gate, he said, when he was younger. It would swing either way on its' simple iron pin hinges. Those pins stuck out of solid stone! I was somewhat fascinated by that, how had those pins been put in the rock? The answer was simple enough, holes had been drilled, by hand into that rock and the pins pounded into place. There was no latch, but at one time, a length of rope thrown around the fence post served that purpose. It was long gone by the time I noticed that gate.

 Now along the front of Great Grandfathers property there was a stone wall. It was a good drop from there to the sidewalk below. I'm aware that sizes change over the years, I thought the wall was quite high but today I'm guessing it isn't more than three or four feet. I loved to walk along the top of that, as all children do, pretending all sorts of dangers. Gramp would hold my hand and walk along the sidewalk, such a patient man, as many times as I liked. Back and forth, back and forth. On the far end, was that gate. There were steps beyond the gate, three of them. But the gate wasn't on the front side, no it was on the side. That is to say, the gate was parallel to the wall itself. You could barely see the steps, they not having been used for years. They were filled in with dirt and debris, but still discernable. Who had used those steps?

 Along the front of the property, just before that wall, was the remnants of what is called a lop fence. A lop fence is a fence that was made by bending sapling trees to form a barrier. It was a method to contain your stock. Only a few of those trees remained and I played on them often. A few had branches that were parallel to the ground and a few feet up. I would ride those branches like a horse. My great grandfather would tell me tales of my own father playing on those trees and of the days when his garden was there, stretching clear to the end of the wall. He told stories about the "old" days as I climbed on those trees, barely listening, just hearing a word or two. Oh how I wish I had listened more closely today. That wall still stands to this day, I have seen images of it on Google earth. Who could have imagined such a thing being possible all those years ago. The trees that were that lop fence are there as well, still standing, waiting to contain the stock, or be the stock in the imagination of a child. 

 That gate was stuck in my mind, tucked away in a corner all these years. I wonder why it came to the forefront this morning. What has jarred it loose? I can't answer that but enjoyed the stroll through it. I'm certain I would have passed through that gate at least once or twice, as that's what kids do. I would have had to try it. But, I don't remember it being the usual way to go to Gramps house. No, I usually just climbed over that stone wall. His driveway was on the side of his house. He didn't drive though, no car in his driveway except someone coming to visit. That didn't happen often I guess, as I don't recall any ruts in the driveway, just that the grass didn't grow there. I have a vague memory of his chicken coop outside his back door. There were no other fences or walls surrounding his property. And that gate wasn't there to keep anyone in or keep anyone out. That gate was only there as a warning, be careful, watch your step. Prophetic? Be careful when walking through the gate, be careful of what lies beyond.