Spring has sprung on our little island under the Crazies, though summer has yet to show its face. The green gold is making its way to the surface almost everywhere, our yard in particular. As I lay there in bed this morning and the sunshine poured through my windows, I had a sudden bolt of inspiration to leap up, through on my running shoes, and enjoy this beautiful day with a walk/jog. Yes, I thought, I will get out there and start out the morning right. I grabbed my sweatshirt and a pair of gloves and made it all the way out to the front deck, at which point I wheeled around and hustled back inside. Forget that! On this fine day in May, the temperature is a brisk (very brisk) 33 degrees. As I have mentioned before, I am a bit (ok, a lot) of a fair weather cowgirl. I am also a fair weather exerciser, gardener, picnic-er, and other outdoor activity-er. I considered getting my pre-wedding butt in shape with a little P90x but in the end, breakfast won. And exercise lost. Again. Of course, not sweating to Tony Horton’s ass-kicking routine has given me time to sit and write this story about yesterday.
Every good rancher’s wife spends time in town. “Trip to town” is met by equal parts excitement and dread, depending on the tasks awaiting you there. Let’s just say that running to town to meet the girls for drinks and articoke dip deserves a much different reaction than going to town for parts and calf scour vaccine. One requires cute clothes and possibly high heels, the other muck boots and hiding out under a baseball cap. There is one thing about going to town that I always look forward to: coming home to Cowboy.
Yesterday I spent the day in town, had coffee with Cassie and had a job interview. I was excited about being in town and probably had too much caffeine, so I putted around town, doing the errands I always forget to do usually. After having the oil in my truck changed and driving slowly by the dealership looking at new ones (not gonna happen but a girl can always look), I stopped in at the hardware store to research what I would need to start my garden. $86 later, I was back on my way back to our island. For the record, I do not possess a green thumb, not even a little. I currently have three houseplants, which seem to live and die, bloom and wilt, regardless of what I do for them. And, I am sad to announce, my sweet little basil plant that I bought on a whim and managed to keep alive and use constantly, has died after 3 months in my possession. Sad day. So why, you may wonder, should I even attempt a “real” garden? Well, I love fresh veggies, and I use them during the summer. Although I could get them from the farmer’s market, going anywhere on Saturday morning is pretty touch-and-go for me. And I usually end up spending 60 bucks on pies and knick-knacks instead of produce. Another reason to attempt a garden is because I have been told that the people who lived here before us had an incredible garden and that our place here on the creek bottom is a really great garden spot. So I will give it a shot. Probably.
Pulling into our driveway, I could see a tractor far off, probably doing something with the ditches. The sun was out, though it was not remotely warm. I hurried inside with my bags, dumping them on a chair while going through the mail. Every good rancher’s wife is an excellent multi-tasker, you know. I changed into a faded pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, let my hair out of its tie and set to getting dinner ready. Dinner usually depends on what is thawed out. I marinated a flank steak, put a pot of potatoes to boil on the stove and jumped on my computer to send some emails. I try to always have the ranch radio on, so that I can hear whats going on and keep in touch with where my cowboy is. Just as I was finishing up my emails and contemplating getting some housework done, I heard the growl of a tractor coming from the shop. I looked out just in time to see the tractor turn down our drive instead of continuing up to the other barns. Yes! I laughed to myself, That man does have good timing. Cowboy was coming to pick me up. It was too early for him to be home yet and he would have seen my truck in the driveway. I skipped out to the livingroom, waiting and looking out our large picture window as he looped the tractor around. Without getting out of his tractor, he pointed at me then motioned me to sit next to me. And I had a totally 13 year old girl reaction. I giggled and ran around the house looking for socks and a coat. And gloves. There wasn’t time to put on long underwear, though the weather warranted it. It was like high school all over, the excitement and suspense of getting picked up for a date. Pick you up at your house at 7, k. Only with my cowboy its more like Pick you up at our house, wear your muck boots. Baseball cap, jeans, sweatshirt, and Carhartt coat, and a granola bar for Cowboy. Yes, cowboys eat granola bars, as long as they have chocolate, carmel and peanut butter in them. Turning off the stove, I strided out to the tractor. “About time,” Cowboy teased, easily the granola bar I chucked at him in reply. Climbing up the steps of the tractor and settling into my seat, I kissed Cowboy and petted the dogs.Multi-tasking again. Off we went, chatting about our days, my job interview, wedding plans, etc. etc., just like if we were sitting on our couch. That’s how it is with Cowboy, whereever you are, there you are. Live does not stop or slow down because your in a tractor or on the back of a horse, love and life keeps happening. to be continued