And the wind cried “Mary”

And our fence cried “Uncle.”

In March of 2026 a rather abrasive windstorm blew through town and did a number on our fence. And by that I mean a big old smelly number two that we didn’t have the luxury of ignoring for a few weeks like all the little number twos the dogs make in the back yard.

Up until then my general plan regarding fence repair involved identifying a part that wobbled too much and fastening it to something that wobbled less. While this worked surprisingly well for the past 15 years, I couldn’t find any zip ties or wood screws that could repair the posts that broke off two inches above the concrete. So, the next weekend we purchased a few hundred dollars of supplies, invited our neighbor Steve to a fence party, and worked hard to convince ourselves we knew what we were doing. In retrospect I should have filmed a “Brooklyn 99” style introduction where we dramatically walked to the damaged area carrying hand tools in slow motion while exciting music played in the background.

Why, yes, I am pulling out the buried concrete with the car jack from our Kia Sorento. And yes, it did work. I also screwed in a bolt to what was left of the wood to get a more secure hold on the concrete. As a side note, if you are currently in the online dating world this is the kind of image you should post to your profile. A recent study revealed that nine out of ten women prefer a partner with fence repair skills to one with visible abdominal muscles. And that other one will most likely cheat on you with her fitness instructor.

So, what is my advice for all the fence repair enthusiasts out there reading my website? There is literally nothing fun about this activity. It is physically demanding, you have to get your body in unpleasant positions, and in the end the absolute best outcome is to have everything work just as well as it did the day before the windstorm came into town. Enjoy!