Cedar planks leaning and coming loose at the ground- they once must have been painted a glowing white that the April sun reflected on. The picket fence now had a duller white peeling off from its surface.
The dark loamy soil on which the fence stood was the perfect bed for life to take different forms. Red, orange and yellow dahlias were in full bloom. White tulips with a hint of flaming red were scattered like speckled bulbs. Delicately lilting cosmea plants carried subtle lavender flowers that could have been mistaken for tiny pixies. Blue clusters that were hydrangeas huddled together close to the fence, and the yellow butterflies hovering above them perfectly complemented their colour. Fancy spikes of pink blush adorned the delphiniums who savoured the perfect April summer. Roses of several hues, bell-like foxgloves grew in the remaining space. There were even some gorgeously spotted toadstools under the damp shade of the bushes.
Thick ivy twirled around the frail planks- a deep traditional green against the fading white. Some of the ivy found its way to the nearest window of the house that stood behind the picket fence, sprawling over the walls. Two little kids would sit at the window of the room and play with their toys. Sometimes they would come out to chase butterflies or get a closer look at the wildly chattering birds who had made the picket fence their home. After school they would also try to hang on to the fence and swing. It would groan at the ground but never give way.
Many times, the kids’ grandparents whose house it was discussed getting the fence changed to a new and stronger one, those sturdy metal ones, perhaps. They would come outside, examine the peeling paint, the fragile hinges and then stop to gaze speechlessly at the thriving life around this old picket fence. Then they would go back in, changing their mind.
Time flew by- the house got renovated and there was fresh paint, shiny grills on the windows, polish on the oak doors with gleaming brass knobs, even the cobbled path was cleaned and the weeds were uprooted- everything looked brand new and breathtaking.
But the old picket fence that still stood tall, just leaning a bit more, was the most beautiful of all.
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