… whether I really should have taken on this house, what with all the time and effort and money it eats, and whether I was right to involve the Husband in this project which holds great sentimental value for me while he might have remained just as happily in the condo in the centre of town.

But then my grandmother’s peonies bloom thirty years after she passed on, and I bring some of them inside only to find the husband taking pictures of their little green inhabitant before carefully taking him back outside. And then I know again that it was the right thing to do.