This is my husband Chris on a perfect Sunday morning at the farm. We're finally moved into the new house and he's closing on the Podunk Road house next week. I'm all "yea", but I know it's been tough for him to leave so many memories behind. Even our old dog, Spud (below), is buried in the grape vine. We were planning SpuddyBuddy White and SpuddyBuddy Red, but by the time we moved we just had some lame cruddy-duddy grapes.
Chris the first one to admit that he's ready to let a lot of the past become the past, but it would sure be nice to have been able to take some of the more special trees with us.I never thought I'd marry who man who loved planting trees, and farming, and chopping wood. Growing up in NYC, we always "had someone do" whatever it was that needs to be done, from painting bedrooms to installing wall units and swing sets. I married a man who actually "does it" - it's like marrying the superintendent, but not having to live in a basement apartment! His garage is full of tools and projects and skill saws and a whole lot of crap that he just can't stand to throw away. That's fine - it's his space, but I could do without the life-size Molson bikini girl winking at me through the window.
I am so getting a life-size Bobby Labonte cut-out for my studio space!
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