After six months, I finally did something about the lock. Something brilliant. If you didn’t know, last October someone cut the chain and put on their own lock.
I didn’t want to do anything destructive. For over a year, with the exception of cutting down some trees, most of what I’ve done here is constructive: fixing and building. So I was hesitant to break the lock or the chain. When I first arrived, there was a chain, but no lock. My gentlemanly neighbor told me the owner died fifteen years ago.
At first I thought that I would make two gates, but we thought of a better idea: two locks.
So now both of us can get in. The mystery man and I. As you can see, my lock is the weakling.