Our drive back home last Tuesday from Toronto to Ottawa was not without suspense and drama. We left Toronto in what was at first a light rain but soon developed to a downpour. Driving through successive lashings of cloudbursts we found visibility greatly impaired. That there is never any lack of transport truck traffic presents as a real hazard under these conditions. There were times when visibility was so lacking we had cause for real concern. Which seemed later as comparatively ideal driving conditions when we drove into a rainstorm that was truly extraordinary, although Highway 401 often has these violent events blowing in off Lake Ontario.

This time, however, the situation became really grim with visibility reduced at times to sheets of opaque whiteness smothering the windshield, mostly splashed onto our vehicle by heedless transport trailers whose drivers sit sufficiently high enough not to be too bothered personally, and it's every driver to himself, no thought of courtesy under these conditions, when such niceties of the road are scarce enough at most times of highway travel. We really felt our lives to be in danger, a feeling that hasn't overcome us very often in our lifetime of highway driving. Eventually, the rain was reduced and finally halted, and we drove into a large rest spot for a few minutes' respite. Walking Riley along a green swath alongside the huge parking lot we came across a truck driver from Quebec who assailed us with stories of his own concerns that he might survive the event.

When we finally arrived home it was to the surprise discovery that the work crew that had been labouring for a month and more on our neighbours' property still weren't finished the job of re-landscaping. It would be another several days before we finally saw them depart, their job done. And the really interesting thing out of all of the noise and dust raised by the landscaping with the use of all manner of large mechanized specialized vehicles was that it was truly difficult to discern the difference between 'before' and 'after'.

It did, however, inspire my husband in succeeding days to hie himself out to the gardens and do some work there. Our grass at the front of the house is so poor, at least that contrast to the sod that the workers had put down was notable.

So my husband set about digging up our old sod, laying down new soil, although the soil that had come up with our pitiable sod was quite good, and then rolling out new grass that had been on sale locally.
 

Further inspired, though it took him many hours of hard work, he decided to focus on one of the garden beds, pulling out excess greenery (he hates the intrusive, thuggish nature of sweet little woodland violets that seek to integrate themselves in a colonizing effort even through the grass), tidying things up, and laying down mulch.

Our gardens are as beautiful in colour, form and texture as our grass is miserable. Although people tend to baby their lawns, we take pride in our garden beds and borders. It's just the way it is for us.