Robert Frost is dead wrong.

This is Abysmal...and lately, well, I have been thinking that Robert Frost has it all wrong in Mending Wall.

There is something splendid about a wall.

Yes, yes, Robert (or shall I call you Bobby?) you are all apple orchard and your neighbor is all pine so you don't have any problems because trees don't move from one home to the other in the night. I GET THAT, believe me.

But Bobby....let me ask you this...how would you feel about a wall if your neighbor had say...about half a dozen kids and say....three dogs. How would you feel about a wall, Bobby, if you had to clean dog shit from your garden, your lawn furniture, and the side of your grill? How would you feel about a wall after finding chew toys in your rose bushes and dirty diapers (drug over by the dogs, no doubt) at the foot of your back porch steps? And the constant barking....Bobby, how would you feel about that?

How would you feel, Bobby, upon entering your back yard only to see the children scatter from your woods and smell the distinct odor of burning leaves? How would you feel about a wall if you found chips in your new siding from bb gun pellets? What about those tracks in your garden, the early morning dew brush of fur on your green beans? What about the bicycle track from one corner of your yard to the next? Surely, Bobby, a wall could prevent that?

And then, dear Bobby, how would you feel if you discovered that the neighbor's kids broke into another neighbor's house in the night and stole all of his beer from his garage? How would you feel about a wall if you discovered that those same kids got drunk and puked all over the alley next to where you planted your strawberries? Would you then, dear Bobby, desire a wall...a great big fence with glorious ivy or clematis clinging to it?

There is something that loves a wall, Bobby - ME.