When we first moved to our current home twenty years ago, others had already been living in their houses for three years on this newly-built street in the suburbs. The suburbs have since been incorporated into the expanded city boundaries.

Our house and one other were built years after the others had been sold and moved into, on two empty lots that had been set aside. Our house, it was explained, was an experimental model brought by the builder to this site, based on models more common in California.

Large, bright and attractive, it took my husband's attention and imagination for its large expanse of walls and open concept design. After we moved in he set about swiftly transforming the interior to reflect his own personal aesthetic, among which was a more 'closed' concept.

We were accustomed at that time to seeing young children in our neighbours' homes. Ours had long since left home to embark on their own lives, careers and families. Now, when we're out walking along the street we see those same children now mature, attending college and university, or the workforce, others visiting with their own young children.

And, increasingly, this is becoming a street of retirees. A picture has emerged among the retiree community here where the man of the household retires first, his wife continues working for a few years, and then she too retires. It's the pattern we ourselves pioneered (I think) almost fifteen years earlier.

One of our neighbours, retired a week earlier, was yesterday struggling to push a reel-model lawnmower. She's someone who enjoys gardening and intends to devote far more of her time to looking after her up-to-now lacklustre gardens. The reel lawnmower was a gift from her husband to her on her retirement.

Her husband had confided to us some misgivings about how things would proceed on her retirement; whether they could successfully keep out of each others' hair. Hmmm.