He starting working longer hours at the church, sometimes close to forty hours in one week, and wished he could work more. Soon he even had a company car. My sister Amelia sold him her old Mitsubishi Eclipse for $500—which I thought was charity until I found out that those cars hadn’t been manufactured since 2008. Still, it got him around. He first stuck rakes in the back, but soon he got help to mount a tow on the rear and was pulling an old boat trailer around onto which he added some planks and a pretty snazzy donated riding mower (apparently, like the waterbeds of a previous era, they were a much-repented purchase). Then one evening he came home with a very old but very theatrical pickup truck on which he had stenciled the image of a globe spilling over at the top with tulips and sunflowers and the words THE WHOLE BLOOMING WORLD, along with the words * Plant Environments *.

“I figured that environments covered everything,” he said proudly.

“It seems like it might be a lot to take on.”

“Just this truck and the mower, and maybe I’ll add a part-time high-school kid to work for me.”

“What about bonding and insurance and all that?”

“Mom, for real. Do you think everybody who drives past here with some rakes and a mower on a pickup truck is bonded and insured?”

“Probably not. But if you are going to advertise, you’ll need to at least look into it.”

“I’ll get to that if this is a go. I’ll be very, very careful. If it isn’t a go, then, oh well.”

It seemed to be a go, however. Within the month, through ever-resourceful Julie and through word of mouth, Stefan had six regular landscaping clients, then ten. Stefan’s eye had been healing nicely and so he was gradually able to lift and tote things safely. The crowning achievement of those initial efforts was being hired to landscape and caretake The Luck Institute, a beautiful building in town with an indoor atrium that housed offices, a jeweler, a bakery and a high-end luggage store. One of Stefan’s jobs would be to create a rotating indoor display that reflected the season. The idea thrilled him. Stefan pitched the theme of boats and sailing for the midsummer season and positioned a derelict old row boat in the middle of the plaza that foamed with dusty-blue buckets of coneflower and particle hydrangea, while sailboats planted with orange and red and blue sedum marched up the outside of the staircase. An old fish trap was festooned with small pots of gerbera daisies and veronica. Strategically hidden clip-on grow lights, set on timers, switched on at night to give the flowers an artificial drink of sun.

He took me to see it one morning, melodramatically insisting I cover my eyes. When he gave the word, I stared, then gasped.

“It’s stunning.”