White Picket Fences

The effort of renewal

The gate wasn’t painted when I moved in. It was just raw wood, some slats dented and split. I’m sure it looked fine when it was built but it had begun to sag a little and the wood had begun to mildew at the bottom, and it was speckled with dirt from where rain would splash up off the driveway. I bought one of those cheap plastic drop cloths and spent an afternoon batting away mosquitos while coating it in a bright white primer. It gleamed like a Hollywood smile on the red carpet.

Polaroid of my neighbor’s wisteria, Sunday March 15, 2026

That was a few years ago, and the wood had become grimy again, one or two slats mottled green from where the magic bamboo kept them shady and damp after the rain. I was worried a few of the boards were rotten or too far gone and would need to be replaced; I had good cause for one especially, that I may or may not have kind of caught fire with a device you can buy from Harbor Freight that is ostensibly to burn back weeds, but is in actuality a propane-fueled flamethrower. It’s great fun to use but should seriously be banned. I set the fence on fire, is what I’m saying.

I searched for some 3/4” or 5/8” pine boards I could use without ripping them down the middle, but couldn’t find any pre-cut. I didn’t want to buy boards from Peru or Canada when Mississippi is basically a pine forest, but that’s what they had at the store, and I figured stronger new boards would be better than rotten ones, no matter where there were from. My Pop texted and said it’ll still tend to sag a little, because they built it with the cross-braces backwards. I asked how I could keep it from doing that, and he said you could always rebuild it. I decided to just re-brace it as best I could and put a few more screws in from where the boards had pulled loose.

I spent a few hours sanding and checking to see where the wood was rotten, but it was way healthier than I had worried; I used most of a little tub of wood filler to fill the bad spots and let it all dry overnight. I replaced some of the boards around the fence that had gone bad, but it was a simple fix. Ripping out bad wood is pretty satisfying and easy; it’s too weak to hold onto anything when you start yanking on it.

In the meantime I wandered around in the yard making photos of the azaleas. A friend told me yesterday they couldn’t stand azaleas, and I think they’re crazy. Nothing says springtime like an azalea in bloom. What do I want with a hot pink flower, they said. Get out of here with that. The ones in my sideyard are a full on Cyndi Lauper neon pink, but some in the backyard are a pale pink with speckled insides, plus there is one that’s more or less a tree with delicate yellow flowers. I kind of like the white ones but wouldn’t want them exclusively. Anyway the gardenias are white. Azaleas are beautiful is the point.

I spent the cool early hours of this morning sanding and re-painting and trying to clean up all the drips. The gate is by no means perfect, but it’s better. I wander over into my neighbor’s yard. She has a big huge wall of wisteria, drooping off the oaks and lining her fence. Wild vines have creeped up around it, wrapping the purple blossoms with thorns. I stand in her driveway and just look at it until I get concerned I’ve set off her Ring camera, which might worry her.

I try to make a picture of the fence, but when I look at the Polaroid after I get out of the shower, it’s just bright white lines, blank and a little blurry. You can’t see all the work in it, don’t see all the hours of care. It’s just a fence, after all.

GORJUS is a dispatch devoted to art and life in the South, held fast with instant film. It’s springtime in Mississippi, and I’m going to go drive around listening to Tom Petty’s Wildflowers with the windows down. If you feel like doing that today too, consider forwarding this letter to a pal who is like us. I’m gorjusjxn on Instagram, and you can see an archive of Polaroids at McCartyPolaroids.