When a co-worker asked me how my weekend was, I said I did a lot of yard work. He cringed and looked sympathetic, making a face like it must have been a rough way to spend two days.
Not at all. Now, I won’t lie: it was a lot of work. My husband and I divided and conquered by working on different projects at the same time, and we were in the yard a few hours on Saturday. It was a beautiful day, but it didn’t take long for both of us to get quite sweaty, and the sun’s heat became draining.
I pulled weeds and cleared fall leaves and old mulch from two flower beds in the back yard. The longer I was at it, the slower I got, as fatigue set in deeper and deeper. I was determined to finish both beds, but after a few hours, I was dragging. Bags of mulch that I tossed around earlier now felt like they weighed a ton. I was contemplating getting the wheelbarrow to assist with fetching the next bag when, like he read my mind, my husband came around the corner of the house, a bag of mulch in his arms, and not only placed it next to my flower bed, but ripped it open and started spreading mulch in the empty spots.
We worked a bit longer, finished the flower bed, then swept the walkway between the two flower beds and put our tools away. I went inside to get some ice water, then we sat on the front porch together.
We were sweaty. We were streaked with dirt. Exhausted. Breathless. But we were so happy.
From our porch, we can see the roses in our front flower bed, the potted plants lining our front walkway, our oak tree with a swing painted blue to match the house. We passed the water back and forth while we caught our breath, and we talked about what we had gotten done, what we still wanted to do, even how some of the neighbors have started copying parts of our yard. (We’ll take it as a compliment.)
My husband told me that he remembered telling his parents once that he wanted what they had. They adored each other, worked side by side for everything they had, supported each other, and were a true team. After a few strike outs, we finally found that when we discovered each other.
All that manual labor worked up an appetite, so we headed inside for much-needed showers before date night. After being sweaty and dirty for most of the day, I wanted to dress up a bit for dinner. I spent some extra time on my make-up, tried wearing my hair just a little bit differently than I usually do, and wore a nice outfit, not just jeans.
As we were walking across the parking lot together later, my husband told me I looked nice. Then he said, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with.”
I hadn’t felt particularly beautiful earlier, drenched in sweat, streaked with dirt, as I bent and yanked and toiled away in the flower beds. But walking beside him right then, hand in hand, the way he looked at me, I couldn’t help but smile and feel absolutely wonderful, like no one else existed but him and me.
As we washed dishes and cleaned up after dinner last night, he said, “The problem with good weekends is that eventually they are over.” We joked about work being so inconvenient, but it’s true! We have so much we want to work on at home, both house projects and personal hobbies, that the work week just feels like an unwelcome intrusion.
I will try to focus on the bright side, though, and stay positive. After all, isn’t the work week just five days for me to plan and look forward to our next weekend?
Stained Glass Butterfly 