I could happily lean on a gate all the livelong day, chatting to passers-by about the wind and the rain. I do a lot of gate-leaning while I am supposed to be gardening; instead of hoeing, I lean on the gate, stare at the vegetable beds and ponder.
I have my own memory of an old gate in front of our home, and from the ages of five to fifteen, I spent many a time swinging on it, leaning on it, climbing up it (to a child it seemed like Mt. Everest) and watching the world go by. This is not that gate I am sharing today, but an old photo I took on our last trip to England.