My Mister

Fifteen years later-  He still listens when I blather on.  He still patiently forgives.  He still lifts me up when I am down.  He still tells me I am beautiful and makes me believe he believes it.  He still holds me when I fall asleep.  He still kisses me hello in the morning.  He still lets me put my feet and legs on him, well, pretty much all the time.  He still impresses me with his talents. He still makes me laugh so hard my side aches and tears squish out.  He is still faithful and true.  

Fifteen years later- He is still the best part of me.

The Mister

It was Andrew's idea to get the elk for Papa's birthday cake.  I am thinking the fact that HE loved it so much (and wanted it to play with) had a great deal to do with the decision- but I don't mind saying that I went with it, knowing I'd have it pretty easy with cake design this year if I did.  How many different designs can one make with peanut butter frosting, anyway?  Sheesh.

He's so handsome and strong and hard-working and sweet.  After 12 years of marriage, I've known those things for a long time.  But I learned something new about my Mister this year- something that I can barely (no, not at all) relate to.

On Valentine's Day, I wrote this:

Feb 14^th 2015

It has been such a frigid winter this year.  Our hilltop has been blanketed with snow all winter long- more and more inches adding to the already made layers from the many weeks of these cold, bitter, snowy days.  It has been ever so long since I saw any color but white under my feet. 

Tonight the weather is -1 F with wind gusts up to 39 miles per hour…making the outdoor temperatures to feel about -20 F.  Tomorrow’s high is 1 F. The wind howls outside the window and rattles the glass of the windows as I type.  I type only because we have moved the computer downstairs~ the upstairs office was too cold for frozen digits to be productive in any capacity.  The poor windows in this house are fighting a losing battle of keeping warmth IN- you can actually feel a draft and see blankets or curtains move.  There is a winter chill advisory through tonight and into tomorrow evening.  And, oh yes, a few inches of accumulation by morning.

What an odd thing, then, to say goodbye to your husband for the night as he descends into the blustery darkness with camping gear and high hopes for a good nights’ sleep in the woods.  WHAT?!? 

I think Matt and I are a very good match and we relate to each other very well in almost all circumstances…but after 12 years of marriage, I think I have found something in which I cannot relate to him at all.  Really, who in their right mind goes camping in the middle of one of the coldest February nights on record?

He and his twin brother John, both having celebrated 38 years of life just yesterday, are out there right now huddled up around a fire and covered in wool blankets and poncho liners and special sleeping bags and face masks that drawstring up so tight that only your nose can poke through.  Not in the latest Coleman tent, oh no, but with a simple tarp overhead.  Maybe.    

This is something that they have spent many winter nights doing together growing up, so I am told, with a fond nostalgia.

I wonder, though, if they enjoyed that sort of thing as boys because they had not yet experienced the feeling of a woman curled around them in bed at night, keeping them warm and snug the whole night through.  Had this passion just been the foolishness of competitive boys who needed to define their manhood in some way- much like that first puff of a cigarette the cool kid at school offers you?  Will the wild woods and whipping winds at midnight be as enticing now that they have the knowledge of what they are missing and perhaps a bit more wisdom under their belts?

I like to think so.

  

But I wonder.  

You should have seen the twinkle in Matt’s eye as he prepared his ‘gear’.  You should have heard the stories and reminiscing and joking while we sat around visiting, before they departed outdoors and we women and children departed to our cozy beds, alone for the night.  These men-boys spoke of their plans to cook bacon, sausage, eggs and coffee over the campfire with just the simplest of pans, all hauled in on their backs.  They related the story (between the sniggers and grins) of the time Matt was so cold in the morning, he stood shivering and stomping by the fire when someone laughingly said “Hey Matt.  Your leg is on fire” while flames burnt a dinner plate sized hole in his clothing without his knowledge whatsoever.  Ah, good times.

This is either the moment that they realize that wives are a whole lot better to be in bed with than snowflakes or I learn that this husband of mine, who I have always known to be a serious country boy, is a total nut. 

Husband, come back to me soon.  And with all your digits- and the tip of that handsome nose still rosy.

The verdict is in.

He's a nut.

Woodland Feast

We feasted on fresh nectarines, grilled pork loin, potatoes swimming in a sea of saltbutter and Matt's favorite~ blueberry pie, a la mode.  All trekked to a secret spot in the woods dubbed The Clay Cauldron for the spot of wet clay that can be dug and shaped and played with at the bottom of the creek trickle.  We hauled baskets and blankets and flowers and a lantern all (swiftly and secretly) yesterday afternoon as Matt puttered about, clueless.

It was a glorious feast among ferns and fungi, ending with a gift found in a hobbit hole and a game of hide and seek for all.  I sought.

We all decided a Woodland Feast for the Papa is a good Father's Day tradition for every year- but maybe next year we'll forget the 'surprise' part and use the tractor for hauling things into the woods too. It took some gumption to get a load to the woods and get back before the pork needed flipping on the grill.

Rising Up

When I arrived home from my weekend away, I wasn't sure what to expect.    I hoped that the children and Matt would have plenty of play time but I also hoped that Matt would be able to eek out a bit of time to do some work (the kind that he enjoys...)

On the off chance that He was looking for something to do (ha!), I scratched out a list of a few smallish jobs that I needed his help on in the future... you know, in case he was bored.  (As if watching and providing for four children for an entire weekend for the first time ever wasn't enough to do!)

He had never done anything like this before.  I had never done anything like this before.  I didn't know exactly what to expect and I must admit, I was a bit nervous.  My only real hope was that everyone had not only survived but that everyone (Matt included!) actually ENJOYED themselves....that it would be a time more sweet than stressed.

I never once thought about the house being clean or the dishes being done.   I figured after a luxurious weekend away, I would be ready to roll up my sleeves and get things back in order.

But as I walked into the house on Sunday night~ the dining room table was cleared off from dinner and wiped clean.  The living room was tidy.  The counters in the kitchen were bare and the kitchen sink was SCRUBBED pearly white.  Scrubbed!

The next morning, the children gave me the 'tour' of all the changes while I was away...including some of that Honey-Do list I had jokingly scribbled out.

He roto-tilled the old pumpkin patch and cut-flower garden.

Ahhh- fresh tilled soil.  As healthy as no-till garden soil is, I sure do love the look of a freshly tilled spot of earth.

This is the closest thing to a picture that I could find of the spot before hand.  The front part is the asparagus- the back half (you know, the spot that looks like overgrown grass) was the part he rototilled.

Before, the rhododendron was buried in burdock.  He weedwacked the burdock for me so I could see that the rhodo was actually blooming!

Some friends gave us a large tent for free.  It needs to be repaired in places but not so much that they couldn't set it up and enjoy it.  Though this particular picture doesn't seem like they are!  hehehe

He also put up the garden fence for the tomatoes.  Instead of cages (which I loathe) and stakes (which never hold up for me for some reason) I intend to weave the tomatoes through the fencing.  It's an experiment.  (I'll let you know how it goes.)

The first hurdle was realizing that a 50 ft. long roll of fence was just enough for one pass through the width of the garden.  (I was hoping for four rows worth of fencing!)  I guess the garden is bigger than I thought!  I bought one more roll but that was where the budget stopped.  The rest of the plants will be staked or caged with what I have lying around from last year.

He even had time to finish the roofing to the addition during the littles' rest time!  I should note that he re-used the steel roofing from the old, fallen down middle barn which, from what we've been told, would make that steel almost 100 years old!

And if you look close- he is preparing for the next step:

walls and WINDOWS! 

I realized a few things after my return.  One of which is that I don't give Matt enough credit.  

He is fully capable. He is wonderfully considerate.  He can really rise up to the occasion.  He completely exceeded my wildest expectations.  He fit work, play and even thoughtfulness into the weekend.

He is just the dearest man.  

TOTAL Destruction?

 

In my last post, I said something like "my house is in a state of total destruction."  HA.

Well, let me just say, I had NO IDEA.

It got much, much worse. 

The absolute only good thing about it (well, besides the finished product) was getting to see the throbbing, bulging muscles this man can sport.

Whoooo-wee.  You can sand my ceiling any time.

Matt knew with all the mess he made, that he needed to butter me up- so he took me on a date.    With the muscles and the mess, I didn't need much coercing, let me tell ya.

 

I pretty much stink at bowling- but I sure do have fun.  (And isn't bowling WAY more fun now that there isn't any cigarette smoke clouds hovering over your head and making fuzzy the view of the pins?  Amen to that.)  Matt on the other hand- is awesome.  (Stinker.)  

BUT.  BUT.  By the third game, his arms were getting tired (hmmmm- I wonder why?) and mine were warming up.  I actually got a strike.

TWO strikes.  

I am so awesome.

 Never mind about that sixth round. M'kay?