Up the Sunbeam

The old fence no longer holds anything in or out . Posts still st a n d where hard-working hands placed them . . . when? I don't know. Most of the wire is gone and with it the memory of who put it there or what treasure it kept safe. What is left is weathered, worn and rusted so heavily the wire looks sculpted rather than twisted together. Long years of exposure to water, air and sun have eaten away at what once was new 'til it is rendered useless, though still dangerous. Rusted iron, corroded metal, brittle wire showing the breakdown of its once shining strength--it speaks. In Eden, everything broke, and the first corrosion began. Things began to fall apart, to waste away. Time became a thief, fear entered stage-left and death stalked us all. Maybe that was when we started trying to hold on to things . . . earth things. Maybe that was when we became grabbers inst ead of givers. Maybe that was when we first fell for fool's gold. "They say that where your...