There's a small run of swamp fifty yards wide or so that cuts across the middle of the land.In order to get to the back half without rubber boots we had to build a bridge. So in the winter of 1989-90 we set out with Mr. Pink's assistance and a wheelbarrow.
We had been visited by wild pigs in the months after Hurricane Hugo. They tore up the ground all through the woods, uprooting trees and generally making a mess. We didn't know then that they were temporary residents and put a lot of effort into making the structure snout resistant. Instead of just putting down blocks or short four by four posts we built H-shaped piles eighteen inches tall and put a twelve inch cross piece on the bottom to help keep them from being pulled up. This made for much larger postholes. In the mud. Through the roots. The pigs haven't been seen around here since.
But it did gradually get longer.
And nowdays we're all quite casual about it.
Though some don't like to share.
Here's a short video of Goldie and me as we crossed the bridge almost twenty years later.