My husband is a country boy.
I was a city girl.
Notice I said “was”.
I’m a changed woman. You see…
Boy meets girl.
Girl who despises smell of cow poo {and who assumes all country life involves having to smell cow poo day and night and life in a crappy, old farm house} convinces country boy that life in the city ain’t that bad.
Boy marries girl and moves into the city.
5 years of city life, and 2 children, later, city girl can’t wait to move to the country.
Country boy cheers.
The end.
You see, I have fallen in love with country life.
The smell of sun-dried laundry {not to mention a smaller gas bill} just gets my goat!
Seeing cardinals, red-winged black birds, gold finches and robins right outside our window versus on our doorstep {compliments of the neighborhood cats} is quite refreshing really.
Saving our veggie trimmings, egg shells, stale bread and fruit peels for the compost heap offers a surprisingly satisfying feeling {not to mention less garbage}.
Watching the little kernels of corn we planted grow into lush plants that will eventually feed our family makes me smile {you should see the in-process cantaloupe, watermelon, potatoes, peppers, squash and tomatoes our garden is boasting!}
And how can you not love a plant that curls this way? Thanks God for making garlic curly…just another sign you love me so!
And of course watching my hot man riding the zero-turn mower across “our” {not quite officially yet} 3 acres just makes me blush.
{insert sweaty censored photo here}
These two seems to like country life too…
Yup.
I’m bloomin’ in the country soil now, and it just so happens I’m loving it!
{Happy father’s day, beloved man…you won}
