On Wednesday I brought the DW flowers, her favorites, lilacs. (Please hold your applause until the end of the blog, and then a simple golf clap is sufficient.) I do this every year around this time, when they bloom, cut them myself. I did it on our honeymoon in April, in the Poconos, and am pretty sure I have done it every year except one when the rains were brutal and washed them out and once when medical things kept me a bit unsteady. That’s somewhere around 26 times. (I’ll move on before spraining my wrist patting myself on the back).
As I was driving home with the smell of lilacs in the car I got to thinking that there a few things I do for the DW every year. Breakfast in bed on Mothers Day, probably 24 consecutive times, missed one because she was out of town but made up for it the following weekend.. Eggs Benedict each and every time. Socks and pistachio nuts at Christmas. I bet I have done that 25 times too. There may be others but these are the ones that stick out in my head. I do it because it is a nice gesture and I love her, but also because it is something that binds us together. She knows they are coming, she knows they are from me and she knows I am there for her.
One thought on this practice. I know I can get socks and pistachios (green chile ones!) in LCNM and the breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day is no problem. The question remains “Do they have lilacs in LCNM or a reasonable facsimile that I can substitute? Whatever they are will have to pass the DW test!
1 comment:
What a romantic fellow you are! Mrs. FabP is a lucky woman.
I was surprised this year in Las Cruces to see lilacs blooming all over the place. They have just gone past, and now we have lots of roses and irises in many yards--very beautiful.
By the way, when we lived in New Hampshire I looked out my window one day and noticed that there was a car with Massachusetts plates pulled over at the end of the driveway. I went out to see if they needed any help and found the woman cutting an armload of my white lilacs! She was so stunned to see me.
I figure that people from Mass driving to NH think they have traveled far north that they figure they have gone way past civilization and that no one could actually live way up there. This theory would be confirmed when cars would occasionally pull over for the occupants to take a widdle on my stone wall. Mind you, we lived right in the middle of town--a small town, but a populated one, nevertheless.
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