When he tells me it’s time to start combining, I smile due to amnesia, forgetting about the past five years and how the long fall days drive me mad.
Always the Saturday optimistic, it’s in the midweek where cabin fever nearly breaks me, and Friday comes just in time for the rescue.
It’s conflicting, because while I love that he loves what he does, I hate that I don’t always, but good for me that Sundays are hope-filled and then I remember.
Sundays are an hour outside in the garden, where he is not far away and I can hear the sharpening of metal for knives.
Those afternoons I sit and watch big hands so determined to create a step toward our future.
Sometimes I sit, Monday trying to steal my attention to the long week ahead and me wanting to hold on tight to now.
Mostly, though, I am simply grateful.
I am considering the idea of introducing a Guest Post segment with love and country life stories from YOU, dear friend. Stories of love, country life, or a longing to live in the country, etc.
Would you be interested in sharing yours? Reading others (I know I would)? Let me know!