Another Wreath for the House
Rotate the laundry, vaccum the floors, clean the guest bathroom, wash and put away the instruments of yesterday's baking that went on till 10:30 at night, wipe the counters, finish the grocery list, make the coffee, take my vitamins. Oh! the girls are up now; coordinate the schedules and plans - eat breakfast, wrap presents, shop for last minute items, make the holiday mix, hair cuts at noon, remember to take the boxes out to the shed, man, it's raining...
Amid this hub-bub, before 8:00 in the morning, Gil wanders into the kitchen and says, "I want to show you something. It won't take long, but you have to come with me. We can go before I go to work." The girls are thinking "What the...? Why is he making mom go out in the early morning, in his truck, to see something? Can't he see we're busy here?"
I'm thinking, with a smile, "Hmmm. Okay, I'm game." Jumping in his truck and taking off for some little adventure in the countryside or the old town is a favorite pastime for the two of us. I just wouldn't expect it on a Friday morning. But, I'm on vacation. If he wants to be late for work, that's up to him. He's allowed.
So, he takes me away from all the clutter and obligations and the warm of our home and drives 3 miles, then down an overgrown half circle gravel driveway of the last working farm in our town. "Where's the parking?" I ask, as he pulls into the circle. "This is the parking," he says.
A sign says, "TURN OFF ENGINE." We turn off the engine. And we walk up to a circa 1900 unheated, un-everything "out building" about the size of my kitchen. In it are rusting large glass-faced coolers and a very old refridgerator. A 1960's lamp is on, and sits way up on top of the refridgerator. Old wooden benches line two sides of the room, as well as one narrow table down the middle of the room, and on the benches and tables are homemade black bean dip, preserves, bunches of magnolia leaves, and table greenery. Bushels of "sauce apples" stand near the door, with a 1900's weighing scale hanging from bare rafters. The other wall has amazing grass wreaths and traditional white pine and mixed greens and pinecones wreaths with cheerful red bows. By the door is a card table, with a small whiteboard leaning against the window. The writing says, "This is an honor system. Please total up what you take and leave the money in the box." There is an open, old box, not much bigger than a cigar box, and it has money in it. There is a little stack of damp paper, and a bank pen. The stack has hand-written itemized lists from customers, along with little greetings.
Gil writes,
1 Greens and Pine Cones wreath, $20
1 wreath hanger, $2
Total $22.oo
Thanks, and Happy Holidays from the Heimans!
I leave, wide-eyed, and smiling ear to ear, to have found such a simple joy, and even more tickled that my husband knows me so well that he takes the trouble to wrest me from my holiday craziness and set out into the rainy morning to show me a special, almost secret, little place "just down the road apiece." He knows me; he loves me.
"I knew you'd like this place, and I remembered you said you wanted another wreath for the house." He's right on both counts, and I love him for that.
Copyright (c) 2006
Amid this hub-bub, before 8:00 in the morning, Gil wanders into the kitchen and says, "I want to show you something. It won't take long, but you have to come with me. We can go before I go to work." The girls are thinking "What the...? Why is he making mom go out in the early morning, in his truck, to see something? Can't he see we're busy here?"
I'm thinking, with a smile, "Hmmm. Okay, I'm game." Jumping in his truck and taking off for some little adventure in the countryside or the old town is a favorite pastime for the two of us. I just wouldn't expect it on a Friday morning. But, I'm on vacation. If he wants to be late for work, that's up to him. He's allowed.
So, he takes me away from all the clutter and obligations and the warm of our home and drives 3 miles, then down an overgrown half circle gravel driveway of the last working farm in our town. "Where's the parking?" I ask, as he pulls into the circle. "This is the parking," he says.
A sign says, "TURN OFF ENGINE." We turn off the engine. And we walk up to a circa 1900 unheated, un-everything "out building" about the size of my kitchen. In it are rusting large glass-faced coolers and a very old refridgerator. A 1960's lamp is on, and sits way up on top of the refridgerator. Old wooden benches line two sides of the room, as well as one narrow table down the middle of the room, and on the benches and tables are homemade black bean dip, preserves, bunches of magnolia leaves, and table greenery. Bushels of "sauce apples" stand near the door, with a 1900's weighing scale hanging from bare rafters. The other wall has amazing grass wreaths and traditional white pine and mixed greens and pinecones wreaths with cheerful red bows. By the door is a card table, with a small whiteboard leaning against the window. The writing says, "This is an honor system. Please total up what you take and leave the money in the box." There is an open, old box, not much bigger than a cigar box, and it has money in it. There is a little stack of damp paper, and a bank pen. The stack has hand-written itemized lists from customers, along with little greetings.
Gil writes,
1 Greens and Pine Cones wreath, $20
1 wreath hanger, $2
Total $22.oo
Thanks, and Happy Holidays from the Heimans!
I leave, wide-eyed, and smiling ear to ear, to have found such a simple joy, and even more tickled that my husband knows me so well that he takes the trouble to wrest me from my holiday craziness and set out into the rainy morning to show me a special, almost secret, little place "just down the road apiece." He knows me; he loves me.
"I knew you'd like this place, and I remembered you said you wanted another wreath for the house." He's right on both counts, and I love him for that.
Copyright (c) 2006
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