Sometimes I bemoan the fact that I've married a very practical man. He grew up on a farm, so practicality runs through his veins like blood. D is logical and likes to see the world for what it is, while I prefer looking on the bright side as much as possible without becoming too annoying. He likes to tease me about my daydreaming habits and calls me his little idealist. Well, yesterday I discovered that my stalwart farmer boy has a romantic side.
I was upstairs in the bedroom trying to sweep dirt and fluff out of some stubborn floorboard cracks. I thought I'd better clean off the broom, which was starting to resemble Santa's beard, so I went out on the balcony to give it a shake. In my glazed-over housecleaning state of mind, my eyes wandered over the front lawn, along the rail fence, past the blue spruces, and back up the line of red maples. It was then that I noticed a particularly healthy patch of lawn sticking up greenly just below the balcony. Once my eyes began to focus, I realized that the green patches actually spelled "K-I-M." Yep, my clever husband had spelled my name...in fertlizer.
Who says farmers can't be romantic?
