Stone walls are everywhere around me. Farmers don’t use them anymore, surveyors find other ways to mark the boundaries of our world,  wooden and plastic fences are inexpensive and simple to put up. Only fools like me build stone fences any longer, I put one up behind the first Bedlam Farm, it will be there long after I am gone, I must have been mad to do it. I was, actually.

I love stone fences, I always look for them and find them mostly overgrown, peeking out of the ground, waiting for their time to come again.  I think of the horses that pulled the stones through the fields, the farmers and immigrant workers who piled and stacked them. They sit much as they were made. Stone walls live in a state of grace.