Fence Lines
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Fence Lines

It’s the end of May and the beginning of a hot day.  I trudge up the hill, next to a four wire barbed wire fence.  The hawthorne and chokecherry bushes are blooming by the masses.  Their creamy white blossoms create a misty haze where the bushes grow on the hillsides and along the creek bottoms.  The blossom-scent waffles on the air; a faint, sweet wash into my lungs.  I can almost wrap myself in its creamy lace-shawl warmth.  Today I am checking the south fence of the horse pasture.  After a long, cold winter with snowbanks that buried fences in…