Blue River

Long ago, the roots of a white oak tree planted beside the sidewalk to the front door infiltrated the space below the concrete and caused a crack. Eventually an informal step two inches in height formed in the concrete. While the chipmunks have enjoyed this natural tunnel for the better part of a decade, last month it finally became necessary to replace the sidewalk.

I opted for a gravel walkway, re-routing the path farther from the tree and adding a side path to the stone bench in the small garden that I created last year in memory of my Dad. Normally, I do my own work, but not always very well and the result can be somewhat quirky. I don't worry about how things look in the backyard, but this walkway is in front of the house, and leads to the front door.

I called the stone shop near our home and asked for the name of a landscaper who was sensitive to established gardens. The stone shop man recommended a man to call and by the next day, we were in business.

When he arrived that first morning, the landscaper turned out to be a handsome young man who owns his own company. As we shook hands, I noticed the broad rough hands of a hard worker. Early that morning, he began removing the concrete sidewalk with a sledge hammer.

Later with a shovel, the landscaper dug out the new path through packed clay. He worked alone until dark. When I stopped by for lunch the next day, I asked him about his company. Perhaps from the backbreaking work over the previous two days, he seemed discouraged and my heart went out to this young hardworking man.

The walkway took three days to finish. In my garden is a beautiful path made of Delaware river rock, a stream of blue and gray that flows to the front door. I love the crunch of stones under my feet as I walk. While it is true that I wrote a check to the landscaper, I know that he had given me a gift as well.