His first experiences driving revolved around trucks. When he had barely reached into his teens his father would occasionally tell him to go out and park his truck in a different place for the night. And when he was 15 and working for the summer in a factory that produced chrome and Formica tables he would sometimes be tasked with moving one of their transport trucks to an alternate location. It took 64 years, but he finally acquired a truck of his own. It's a small Nissan with a fair-sized box and he's enormously pleased with it.

This morning, around 6:40 a.m., he kissed me awake and I opened bleary eyes to see him standing beside me, fully dressed. He had decided, spontaneously, to drive the truck over to Canadian Tire to have the oil changed. At that time of day he could be assured there'd be no line-ups for service. No complaints there, it's better than changing the oil himself in his vehicles, something he's been long accustomed to doing, but had promised me he would no longer do. A half hour later he slipped back into bed, having bicycled back home.

And before we set out for our morning walk in the ravine the truck was sitting in their parking lot awaiting his arrival to pick it back up. Once again, he pedalled off on the bicycle, retrieved the truck that he has become so fond of, extolling its virtues to me continually.


And it's been giving him plenty of use. Yesterday morning he went out to a local garden shop and filled the box with bags of garden soil. We just happen to have the absolute most dismal lawn on the street; quite a distinction. So once again this year, my husband will scatter soil and grass seed. Only this time he availed himself of "deep-shade" grass seed, for our lawn is also the only one on the street with enough trees shading it so that grass is loathe to grow.

Yesterday, while I busied myself cutting back dead bits of twigs and branches representing winter-kill on various trees and shrubs, he used the neat electric device he'd bought many years ago to de-thatch the lawn. De-thatching complete, there wasn't much lawn to admire on the front lawn. The trees that we love so much have grown apace, over the years. In the backyard, where ample sun shines down throughout the day, the grass is just fine.

We also needed soil to fill up our countless garden pots which will soon be eligible for the hauling-out and filling process. They're stored under the deck in the backyard, covered with a tarpaulin over the winter months. At some time in the next few weeks they will be restored to their usual position around the property, and filled with a combination of peat moss, seasoned bagged manure, and garden soil.

And then, all that will be left to accomplish is to gather up the bedding plants we'll need to fill the surface of the potted soil, to gladden our aesthetic souls throughout the summer months.