I collected fence posts. Held the rails in place while they were secured to the posts. Waited to see if my rather feeble attempts at fence building passed the inspection of the rancher waiting anxiously to see if the fence would be sturdy enough to hold his bull in the pen.
I must admit to two things.
First the rancher was a five year old with a plastic bull. And second...the fences were three inches tall. Held together first with yarn and then with staples.
But I played cowboy.
Sitting there on the back porch steps holding fence rails while my husband used a staple gun to put them together I could well imagine a full sized fence, in the middle of a pasture, in the hot sun or a blowing blizzard. And a rather demanding boss breathing down my neck wanting me to work faster because his 'bull' needed that fence up NOW.
It was all in my imagination but...
Isn't that what we writers do?
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