It's a crisp fall afternoon at the upper end of Sonoma County in Northern California. The late sunlight has that long, hazy slant of autumn. There is a tension in the air as if time is short for all that must happen before night, before winter. All around me small creatures are rustling, darting, and flitting about. The rattle of dry golden leaves permeates this old, abandoned vineyard.

At one time, long ago, that sagging, rusted fence stood straight and proud, providing support and protection. Some youthful worker rushing through the day, had to drive an extra staple when the first one half missed its hold in the freshly milled fence post. That indication of haste has been here sixty years now, maybe more, slowly rusting. That post once lived, and grew from an idle seed a few hundred yards off, where it's siblings now tower in their age. Clean, new wire once gleamed in this same oblique light.

There were no tangled vines holding it up then, but after some time that fence supported the young grape vines, providing a structure for their growth. Like many such structures, that fence is now supported and weighed down with aging growth. Its original purpose long forgotten, the wire has rusted, the posts have rotted, leaning slowly toward the ground.

Juncos rest along the sagging top wire, pausing for a moment in their frantic rush. Some of them are preening, some jostling their neighbors for a better perch. Some stare into the middle distance of some small, bird dream. The shadows lengthen, the sun slips quickly behind the western hills...again.

Tomorrow will dawn on the other side, with new dreams, and new fences. This is a small, eternal moment to treasure in its time.

© 1995 Chapel
Redwood Mountain Ranch
Sonoma County, California