No more weed and wait; Hello cement drive

Come spring, commencement of the perennial weedy season, a well-rooted desire would sprout again in my gardener’s heart. “Mel, can we afford to cement our driveway this summer?” I’d ask my late husband.

He’d pause, as if I’d caught him off guard. Then, the inevitable “not this year” dashed my dream of never weeding our gravel driveway, ever again.

Furthermore, Mel would never need to buy another two-gallon container of toxic, expensive weed-killer. He’d never again waste hours spraying our circle driveway.

Now, during our tenure of homeownership, Mel had noted the benefits of a cement driveway compared to an asphalt surface. I agreed, mustered the patience to wait, and weeded.

Then, out of the blue one summer day last year, he said, “I’m thinking about hiring a company to asphalt the driveway.”

Considering his lessons on cement vs asphalt, I replied, “Let’s wait until we can afford cement.”

So, we waited.

The following January 30, in winter’s deepest snowstorm, Mel left us for Glory while his John Deere x390 waited in the garage with snowplow, weights, and chains installed.

Family, neighbors, and the funeral director pushed one another’s vehicles out of snowbanks. A neighbor plowed a passage to and from the house, left a Mt. Everest of snow and gravel on the garage approach.

While the mountain melted, I assumed Mel’s roles. Cat feeder. Financial planner. Bill payer. House, auto, yard custodian. Full-time grocery shopper. Etc.

At last, the day arrived to clear the rocks from the garage approach, pull weeds from the cement divisions and cracks. I swept up the rocks, threw them back on the driveway, and wailed against death’s destruction.

My project completed, I leaned on the broom’s handle, spent. You’re too old for this nonsense, I reasoned.

So I surveyed the perennial island encircled by the gravel driveway, sprouting weeds as the days grew longer and warmer. The budding, mature crabapple tree planted in memory of our deceased firstborn provoked gratitude for the living things I’d planted.

Confident the crab would flower, just as the wild geraniums, columbine, lilies, lilacs, roses, and their summer and fall companions would bud and bloom in their time, I rested my eyes upon the barren garden.

“You can afford to cement the driveway,” my gentle Shepherd spoke.

Indeed, the year prior, hadn’t our financial advisor recommended the cement contractor she and her husband had hired for their new patio? In retrospect, my late husband wasn’t well enough to tackle the demands of the extensive home improvement that we needed to simplify retirement.

Dear Reader, I’m into the third week of a work in progress with more cement due for the contractor and his team to complete their magic. The hours he surveyed my undulating property for water drainage, meanwhile waiting for the county and utilities for permits and site visits, come closer to writing my second and final check for his work well done.

And affordable.

Next come estimates for landscaping around this beautiful driveway. No waiting until next year.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com