I gazed down at the fence line, prob’ly near a quarter mile.
One lodgepole post lay on the ground. It’d been there for a while.
Right off I noticed one lone fence post standing straight and tall.
I knew it was the juniper I’d planted late one fall.
My father taught me how to lay out fence and plant a post.
He said a juniper fence post would outlast more than most.
The other posts were rotted through, no use that I could see.
I soon recalled the nightmare of the juniper and me.
I drove out to the desert looking for a dried up tree.
Then spotted one lone juniper. Its limbs were dead debris.
I brought my father’s new chainsaw, a Homelite XL-12.
He had purchased it this morning. Pulled it off the Homelite shelf.
The chainsaw started with one pull. But a nagging in my gut
kept telling me the juniper is a tougher tree to cut.
Sparks were flying past my ears. I had dulled a brand-new chain.
So, I sharpened up the chain and sawed. Then sharpened once again.
The juniper smelled pungent, maybe like a billy’s beard.
Or even natural pepper spray like your senses had been seared.
I finally cut clean through the stump. For the third time dulled my saw.
You might just say I had a juniper stuck in my craw!
I wasn’t about to sharpen so I tossed the chain away.
And muttered how I hated junipers in every way.
I threw the fence post in the truck and cussed, “I’ve had enough.”
And never, to this day, have I cut wood so juniper tough.
That day I dug and planted my juniper fence post.
I wondered would it stand the test of my good father’s boast.
Seeing my old juniper, after fifty years or so.
Sure proved its worth, of all the posts, I’d planted long ago.
I wonder if my grandkids would help me cut and plant a post.
Their name scratched in the juniper would be something they could boast.
But by the time we cut the juniper and sharpened all around,
they’d prob’ly be so mad at me they’d plant me in the ground.
So, should I plant another fence post from the juniper tree?
I recollect that one’s enough of the juniper and me.
