Herdboar mentioned finding beer cans in a fencerow, which reminded me: When I was learning to drink beer, my buddy and I couldn't always finish what beer we could get, so we had to devise a system of stashing the remainders until next time, so of course: fencerow. Our fencerow. Unfortunately, my grandpa was of the generation that, if he didn't have anything else to do, would take his trusty scythe and trim fencerows. Imagine my disgust when we went to get him for lunch and he said, "Looky what I found!" I had a suggestion for what he could do with that scythe, but I kept it to myself...