Rethinking Boundaries: The Unexpected Life of a Privacy Fence

In his poem "Mending Wall," Robert Frost famously wrote, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, / That wants it down.” I find myself aligned with that sentiment. While Frost’s speaker questions the purpose of a wall that encloses no livestock, I share the same curiosity. His neighbor's claim that 'good fences make good neighbors' echoes the questions stirring in my own heart.

Three decades ago, our neighbor announced her plan to erect a freestanding fence between our driveways, citing privacy as the reason. Although my husband and I raised no formal objection, we were uneasy about the fence. It would obstruct our view of the woods behind her home and disrupt the natural pathways of local wildlife. To us, it felt unneighborly not only to people but also to the creatures sharing our environment.

Our family spent much of our time outdoors, often nearby when our neighbor arrived home. Once the fence was installed, however, she no longer felt the need to engage in conversation. We realized then that the true purpose of a privacy fence isn’t to keep anything in or out but to create a sense of invisibility—an approximation of solitude.

Though we never developed a close friendship, over the years we settled into a courteous neighborliness—exchanging greetings when we crossed paths and lending assistance in emergencies. She mostly remained on her side of the fence, and we respected that boundary by staying on ours.

When she passed away two years ago, the once-unwelcome fence had transformed into a thriving support for pokeweed and native vines—some planted by me, others spread by local birds. It turned out that good fences can serve as excellent perches for birds carrying berries and seeds.

Constructed in a shadowbox style, the fence’s gaps allowed vines to twist and climb freely. Their blossoms nourished pollinators, their leaves fed caterpillars, and their berries sustained birds and other wildlife. Carpenter bees nested within the fence’s wood, while small birds found shelter on its crossbeams, hidden perfectly by the foliage.