June 2023 – Sweat & Sparkle

Get Lost

This made me smile, because I know exactly what it means.

My father was an avid gardener: you name it, he grew it, from strawberries, to an apple tree, to berries, to a large vegetable garden. I remember sunflowers taller than me when I was little. They seemed so huge. I remember his ivy, his daffodils, his lilacs.

To this day, I love plants. My husband and I have filled every viable spot in the house with plants, and I always have cuttings rooting in a glass on a side table here, a windowsill there. Outdoors, we have flower beds that we coddle every weekend.

It’s hard work. I can’t lie about that. Some days, it’s so hot, so humid, and I question my sanity, being out there, working away, drenched in sweat. But I know why I keep doing it. At some point, without realizing it, without even meaning to, I get lost in it, streaked with dirt, in a rhythm of digging and pulling and trimming and cutting. It’s hard work, but it’s peaceful, because I am a part of it, at one with it all: with the plants, with nature, with the entire beautiful cycle.

I have several hobbies, and my husband does too. I see him get lost in a similar way. When he is drawing, he gets absorbed in the paper and pencil, and when he is really into it, completely engrossed, his hand and the pencil and his drawing are all one, flowing and working and creating together.

I guess that’s why I love it so much when we work in the yard together, because it’s something that we both enjoy so much, and we can share it with each other, getting lost in it with one another. Even if we are working on different things, we wander over to check in with each other, splash each other with the hose (by “accident”), lend a hand, or just admire each other’s work.

This weekend is going to be scorching, but I already know we will both find ourselves in the yard anyway: getting lost, getting found, and circling right back to each other — where we belong.

No Escape Needed

Absolutely! Getting away together for a day or two, every now and then, is nice, sure. But I am thankful that my husband and I enjoy spending time together, no matter where we are, and that we have built a home that we always love to come back to.

My Favorite Place

My husband and I took off for the beach this past weekend, and it was beautiful. It felt like forever since we had sneaked away together. The first day, there were two red flags, so no swimming, but we still waded into shallow water and then walked along the beach together.

The next morning, the rip current eased up, and the water was surprisingly calm…but cold! We laughed, easing into the waves, until we got used to it. The sun’s warmth, the gentle rocking of the water, the soothing ebb and flow of the waves, were all so relaxing and peaceful. I wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck as we drifted into deeper water. Our wet skin pressed together, our kisses were salty, and we floated together and enjoyed a peaceful morning in the ocean.

In the evening, after dinner and shopping and exploring, we went back to the beach for a long walk along the water. We picked up sea shells, stepped into the water, watched the waves roll up and slide back to the sea. As the sun blazed bright red and starting melting on the horizon, we stopped to watch the sunset and took a million pictures of the vivid colors spreading above the water, reflecting on the wet sand, a dazzling show by nature that was over so quickly.

When we got back to our room, my husband told me more than once that he had had such a good day. I felt the same way. We checked out each other’s sunset photos (his phone definitely takes better pictures than mine) and discovered we had both sneaked pictures of each other, too.

Sunday morning, despite my best intentions to sleep in as long as humanly possible, I woke up early. Sunlight was just barely slipping around the drapes. I peeked to see if my husband was awake yet, but he was sleeping peacefully, one arm reached out and draped across my pillow so that his hand lightly touched the top of my head. I smiled and thought, simply: I love him. I can’t imagine my life without him. I closed my eyes, and just like floating happily in the water the day before, I wanted to hold onto that moment and appreciate every second of it.

As much as I love going away for a weekend, though, I also very much love our home. After spending the night somewhere else, two nights tops, I miss the comfort and familiarity of home. After breakfast, while watching the waves, we were ready to load up the car and head home.

We had made a point of vacuuming, sweeping, mopping before we left for the weekend, so that when we unlocked the door and burst inside with our bags, beach chairs, and cooler, we were greeted with a clean, tidy home. All we had to do was unpack, and then crash together on the couch, smiling about our weekend, but so happy to be home.

I adored every minute of our weekend at the beach. I loved swimming with him, relaxing on the beach to dry off and rest, nearly dozing off in the warmth and peace, listening to the waves, talking, planning more trips. I loved exploring the area, walking around, searching for the perfect shells. I loved just being with him, watching him smile, laugh, be happy.

But my favorite place, ultimately, is our home, and it always will be. We have created this together, built a sanctuary where we are at peace and leave the rest of the world firmly outside. I love pulling into our driveway and thinking how pretty our yard is, and I love walking through the front door to our own little world, and best of all, to him.