As the weather warms and you start to venture outside, be careful where you walk.
If you come across a purple fence post, it’s best to stay away.
A purple fence post is meant to send a message to anyone who comes across it, and that message is: No trespassing!
While property owners have the option of hanging a sign to indicate private property,
signs can deteriorate over time while paint will last a lot longer and still convey the same message.
In 1987 Arkansas became the first state to implement a purple paint law. Currently,
22 states have laws allowing landowners to mark the perimeter of their property with purple paint.
However, while some states use different color paint – Idaho and Montana use orange paint – the idea is the same.
At first many governments required landowners use purple paint and signs, but overtime signage was no longer required.
However, if you live in one of the 28 states that does not have a purple paint law, you may be unfamiliar with its meaning.
A painted post or tree means no trespassing.
In order to comply with the law, the purple stripe must be 3′ to 5′ off the ground and at least 8″ long and 1″ wide.
The markings must not be more than 100′ apart.
Please share this story to make sure everyone knows about the purple paint law.
My Wife Gradually Distanced Herself from My Daughter and Me — Then She Left an Envelope and Disappeared
When my wife began to distance herself from me and our daughter, I was baffled. My story reveals how profound love can sometimes lead to protecting loved ones in unexpected ways. Discover how we navigated through secrets, white lies, and heartbreak to ultimately strengthen our family bond.
There’s a haunting uncertainty in not knowing the full truth, particularly when it involves those closest to you. Let’s go back a bit; I’m Kevin, and Levine and I have shared 15 wonderful years of marriage.
Together, we have an incredible child, Emily, who is still young and in school. My wife and daughter are my world, and I thought we had a perfect family life. Yet, about six months ago, Levine began to withdraw from Emily and me.
Over the months, I watched as my once affectionate wife became increasingly remote. Minor changes in her behavior soon escalated into her avoiding us entirely. Her smiles became rare, and her nights restless.
I often saw her tearful in the bathroom. Whenever I tried to discuss it, she dismissed my concerns with a shaky “I’m fine,” although clearly, she was not. This unspoken tension heavily affected me and our daughter, straining our family dynamic.
“Levine, please talk to me,” I urged one night as I found her gazing out the window, her posture tense.
“I just need some air, Kevin. That’s all,” she whispered, barely audible.
My worry deepened as I approached her. “You’ve been ‘just needing air’ for months. You’re scaring me, baby. You’re scaring Emily.”
She faced me then, her eyes brimming with tears yet unshed. “I can’t, not yet…” she murmured before turning back to the window, leaving me feeling utterly helpless.
Yesterday, after picking Emily up from school, I returned to a strangely quiet home. The morning had started like any other, except Levine didn’t say goodbye. My wife, usually at home, was nowhere to be found.
But on the kitchen table, amidst our usual clutter, lay an ominous envelope with my name in Levine’s handwriting.
With a sinking heart, I opened it, trembling. Inside was her letter, penned in the same shaky hand:
“My dearest husband,
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