Search This Blog

Follow by Email

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Taking Care of Business (I'm a Lucky Girl)

We were at a luncheon party and they served a buffet. The Farmer was already comfortably seated in a recliner so I offered to bring him a plate.

"He can get it himself," his mother said. Several people made similar comments, and some started to tease that he had me well trained.

"Don't worry," I said, "he takes good care of me too."

We take good care of each other, but most of the time it's him doing the heavy labour, not me. I began to tick off a list of things the Farmer has done lately, for which I am truly grateful.

He bought and installed a new dishwasher for me. This is self-explanatory. We have dinner for 15 to 20 people every Sunday. He does the cooking, I do the cleaning. A dishwasher is most appreciated.

Anytime my "needs oil change soon" indicator starts flashing in my Explorer, he does the service for me. He also checks my tire pressure and washes my car whenever he washes his own.

He washes and waxes the hardwood floor. I clean the house every weekend. The Farmer waits until I'm away for the day, and does a deep old-fashioned strip, clean and shine of the hardwood floor, a few times a year. There's nothing like a gleaming hardwood floor, and I have tried following the same steps but cannot get it clean like he does.

On his recent vacation from work, the Farmer rebuilt the back deck. Then he painted it, along with the trim on the house. Then he decided to repaint the doors on the house, including the interior door to the porch. That one he painted bright cherry red. My favourite colour. He also bought me roses and daisies in the same red, because we had just watched a daughter get married and he thought I deserved a bouquet too.

I asked for a screened-in porch one year. Instead the Farmer (who loves to build things) built me a 3-season room. We fill it with family and friends every weekend. I hung dried grapevines and mini lights in the rafters and decorated the walls with mementos and photographs. It is the best room in the house.

I'm not the only one who benefits from the Farmer's urge to build, revamp and repair things. The turkeys recently had their outdoor pen reinforced. Now they can wander in and out of the barn on a whim, fully protected from the other animals. I love the sound they make when they're content. They sound like a bunch of happy little old ladies muttering to themselves.

Basically whenever something needs doing around the farm, the Farmer gets it done, unless he absolutely cannot do it himself. Then he hires someone. But this is very rare. In any case, he makes sure it gets done. I tidy up and clean the house, keep the laundry done, make the beds, and I cook simple meals for the two of us during the week.

But when the Farmer does things, you notice. Sometimes I feel guilty because he is out doing something hot and sweaty and I'm just sitting here in front of the fan, writing about it...

I used to help my husband with the sheep when he gives them their monthly shots, but he has decided it's easier for him to keep track when he does it himself. He was a bachelor farmer for seven years before I arrived, and some of his work is just better done alone. I help during lambing and calving season, but other than that I'm just a spectator.

The Farmer works hard. So on Friday evenings, we go out for a date night. We sit in a pub, drink draft beer and talk about our week. He has simple tastes.

He loves war movies, documentaries and hunting and fishing shows. When I watch TV, it's usually a dancing or singing reality show. He watches them with me, most of the time. He loves red wine and a cigar. And building things. At the moment, he is building a cedar strip canoe in the stable. The horse and donkey watch him over the gate as he cuts long, thin strips of wood on his table saw, steams them in a long, hollow cylinder and bends them around the canoe frame. I bring him food if he forgets to come in and eat.

Each morning I bring him coffee before I leave for work. We take care of each other. It's a good life.

No comments: