The flying picket

There’s a picket fence in there somewhere; I know there is.

It’s on the heritage listing, so that must be right. Although why anyone would want to heritage list a fence that was put up in 1993 and came from Bunnings is beyond me, but there you go: there’s no accounting for folk. Particularly not folk with the power of a heritage order in their hands.

But this doesn’t get me any closer to my picket fence, which once I’ve attacked the bush with a large (but cheap: it was from Aldi) hedge trimmer, was once again present for the first time in 20 years: in all its collapsed glory.

It was almost a study in how not to leave some wood outside, because the top of each picket, with grain exposed to the rain, had disintegrated into matchwood, while each vertical bar was flapping around in the breeze or flying off, which left me up a tree without a paddle.

I actually went to the trouble of buying some new posts & rails: but why do this when you can fudge. All it took was a strong lean to the right, screwing each bar back in place: and lo!

It’s like a new picket. Or would be, if the paint was even roughly up to scratch. Some more work with the sander, and then hours and hours with a paintbrush.