Garden talk

We get started on our major gardening project early. The sun has just seeped through the cypress blind across the street, the birds are chattering in our neighbor's apple tree, a yellow butterfly lingers on a pink bloom. I'm standing on a ladder, pulling weeds from a planter tower in our wall.
Me: If I fell from this ladder, suffered a hematoma on the saltillo tile and died, would you move?
Irene: Move? No way!
Me: Why, because you'd be too bereft?
Irene: No, because this place would be just perfect for one person.