The Boundary Line – A Poem

img_2683

The Boundary Line.

A tight rope marks the boundary line,
Of what is his and what is mine.
There it’s clear for all to see,
A wire runs across to the tree.
A simple border there to define,
A place where you don’t cross the line.
This is a marker there to set,
Just in case he tries to forget.
That there was more given generously,
So as not to cause animosity.
He talked about building a fence,
And when he started this pretence,
Of deciding where his border would go,
Removing the line, well wouldn’t you know.
The best way to do this is to remove the tree,
The one that’s there for all to see.
So he chopped it down and hid it away,
They wouldn’t find it when they came to stay.
But through carelessness, so sure was he
He didn’t count on the things I see.
I walked around and slung over there,
Was my tree stump short and bare.
I took the post with the wire grown through,
And positioned it, in full view.
A reminder of a boundary gone,
And the man who has done me wrong.
For twenty four inches more of land,
So that next to his house, a shed he’ll stand.
He should have asked and not just take,
But he will learn from his mistake.
He does not own, the whole hill,
This place where we are residing still.
We have not gone, are still around.
Here to remain and stand our ground.
They tell us strong fences, good neighbours make.
But he should remember there’s give and take.
Not take and take and just keep on
Until there’s nothing left and it all is gone.
So while he will sit and criticise,
He will do well to remember, that we’ve become wise.
To the stories he tells and the liberties taken,
Which at times, leave us upset and shaken.
But we will fight on and not be deterred,
And timing is right, has not been deferred.
We’ll be “saving our stamps” as he’ll often say
Until our help is required one fine day.
Then we might choose, whether to be
Those friendly helpful people he’ll see.
Or will he arrive at a closed door.
Advantages taken again, no more.
The boundary line has truly been crossed
When into the rubbish it was tossed.
It showed no care and disrespect.
For a friendship now gone due to neglect.


The Daily Post – Trust

The Crossed Boundary…

image.jpeg

This picture represents a crossed boundary.  There are often things which you cannot understand however hard you might try.  About three years ago, I laid out the boundary to our garden, in accordance with our deeds, I was a little more generous than I should be, to allow our neighbour to create a slightly wider gateway or access to the side of his house.  I checked with the Laird, a man who has known both properties for many years, he came and inspected the area and confirmed that I had been more than generous with my neighbour, so there should be no issue.  It was a simple barrier.  Wire fencing supported by 4 inch wooden fence posts and galvanised wire.  It was a gentle boundary, showing where the line was.  I tacked it loosely around an apple tree in the orchard part of the garden.

About 18 months later, when I returned the apple tree was completely gone.  There was also a pile of logs which had been stacked at the bottom of my neighbours driveway, with rather alot from an apple tree, which he does not have anywhere on his land.  It was clear that they had come from my garden. He only has one tree remaining in his garden, he left it looking like a totem pole when he butchered it five years ago and it is still fighting back with greenery this year for the first time. He set a fire underneath it, climbed up the tree after a bottle of vodka when the branches caught light and cut the branch he was sitting on, falling to the ground unscathed.  He then decided the next day to take the other branches off it.


The Sycamore & The Totem

I was a bit fed up, but more so when I found that my boundary had been cut through as he built his fence.  It was needless to take it down and little more than vandalism.  My tree had been lopped and the evidence was there in his wood pile.  I removed the 8ft high log which had been left there and propped it up against the side door of the cottage in plain sight of his window.  Should he wish to discuss trees with me again, I would point out that he had no business in my garden felling my trees or taking my wood without discussion.

Needless to say, there was no discussion. Not that year or since he did not pass by, went away for a while and I did not see him until this year, in passing but he has not come by to speak with me, preferring to speak only with my partner.  He doesn’t have a very high opinion of women, especially the ones who make decisions.  The log stayed in our cottage since then, it made a good prop-barricade in case someone tried to push the door in.  But a friend who helped us chop logs this week cut it up for firewood when I wasn’t looking, this is the only piece I managed to salvage.

So this is all that remains of my boundary, the one he crossed. A crossed line, which I will not forget. It will stay in the cottage as a reminder to me that I should not trust him.  As a reminder to him that I know what he did and of my displeasure at his actions.

In the time we have had the cottage he has tried many times to fell my trees. Wild attempts to get other people to cut them down in my absence, with excuses as to why, some of which we have foiled only just in time. There is a large sycamore which is growing rather spectacularly and he attempted to get the telephone company only a week ago to fell it, saying that it was on his land.  It isn’t.  I ask myself when will he realise that  I have woods here because I love the trees, they are calming, protecting and offer sanctuary and they are mine.  There are none which can damage his property, they were already removed. There are none which concern him. The truth is that he doesn’t care. Some people don’t. My question is that if they resent the countryside so much, then why choose to live there? A rural location without trees and nature, well that just isn’t natural.

I think I need to spend more time here, in my absence things happen…