He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. The neighbor insists, however, that “Good fences make good neighbors.” Frost presses his argument: Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. “Good fences make good neighbors,” the neighbor repeats. I thought of Frost’s poem the other day while reading about early 17th-century Maryland, where the settlers h