You know, after over thirty-one years of marriage, that olí goat farmer I married is still a romantic. Take the other day, I was sitting at the kitchen table mulling over how to fill out the goatsí registration papers, and pretty sure I had just called one of our bucks a doe, when I heard thumping sounds on the back porch.
Looking up, I saw Lee through the patio door filling up the wood box for the upstairs wood burning stove. Why, it sent such a thrill through this tough old heart because I wouldnít have to fill that wood box up, I almost jumped up and shouted out in joy to Lee to make sure to fill it clear to the top.
You see, itís my job to keep the upstairsí wood box full and Leeís job to keep the downstairsí wood box full. And, if you knew how warm I like to keep this house, youíd know it was an every day job for both boxes to be filled.
He just happened to be walking by outside and noticed the box was almost empty and decided to fill it up for me. What a considerate feller. Heís all the time doing little things like that for me.
For instance, to save me from running and tackling so much when we have a bunch of six month old bucks that need to be wormed and they donít want to be wormed, Lee and I will work together to push them into a corner of their run-in shed. Now they are ready to explode in all directions again but being a considerate gentleman, Lee will give me a bit of advice.
"Connie, you stand over there like you are blocking the doorway. They know they can run over you, because you are the weakest link. Iíll push them just a little from behind to make one try to run you down. When he tries, Iíll be there first and grab him before he runs over top of you and weíll worm him and that will scare the others back to the corner where we can do it all over again."
"All righty," I reply happily. Because I know my man, heíll catch most of them and only a few will actually run me down. Good olí Lee. And itís not unusual sometime during the day to see me hanging on for dear life to a running buck or doe, with Lee in hot pursuit trying to grab the goatís heel to slow them down in order to save me a long walk back to the barn. Lee is always trying to help me. Weíre actually the dream team in motion when working goats.
And he buys me things, that man canít seem to buy me enough duct tape. Always thinking of me. He knows how I love duct tape, particularly if it comes in a variety of colors for patching boots, barn coats, rain gear, hats, taping water pipe across goatsí horns who are mean and hooking other goats, taping equipment together until I can find the hammer. He knows I always appreciate a roll of duct tape.
When itís time to clean out the barn, he always letís me have first pick of the pitchfork I want to use. Itís these thoughty little things that sure soften a girlís heart. He always keeps me supplied with insulated boots in the winter so I donít have to go inside so often to thaw my feet out. A good, warm barn coat is a must and heíll hunt through the stores for the right one so I can stay outside in the coldest of temps. And if I canít get away from the farm to do grocery shopping because of all the girls getting ready to kid, he happily goes grocery shopping for me after he gets off work, to make sure I can keep preparing hearty warm meals plus keep an eye on the girls. What a guy.
And, he always lets me pick first the bucket I want to sit on and snooze while waiting for several girls to kid at night. In fact, one Valentineís Day he bought me a padded seat cover for one of the buckets so I could be more comfortable down at the barn. What more could a girl ask for?
Compliments, oh my does he keep giving me compliments. When we are unloading 500 square bales into the barn, he keeps telling me that for a woman my age, I sure am strong. Compliments like that really turns a girlís head.
Yes, that husband of mine has me figured out. He treats me like a precious, though very strong, flower. Flatters me with compliments. Buys me wonderful presents. And, he helps me chase and hold down goats that need to be doctored. And, he fills up the wood box when I least expect it. Yep, that olí goat farmer knows the way to this galís heart.