Treasures of the Heart

This morning my spouse got a wild hair up his butt and decided to work on cleaning up the farm ... such as moving my beloved window boxes down to a burn pile, along with anything else that screamed the word JUNK to him. 

When I wildly ran out the door flailing my arms and yelling, "No! No!  Not my window boxes .... ", he just kept on driving!  Of course when I ran after him in an attempt to save my treasures, it dawned on me that I was barefooted and was running on gravel.  Not just just any gravel ... but rained on gravel that was mixed with barn mud.  Defeated, I hobbled back to the house and began wipe the cow poop from between my toes.

I loved those window boxes.  Granted, I only planted flowers in them the first year I put them up, about five years ago.  I had found the pattern for them on page forty-four, in a magazine that Von's Dad had given me a few years before .... and they looked so beautiful in the pictures, that I just had to have them.  I had them made and painted them with love ... and hired the neighbor man to put them up and I planted the most beautiful Petunia's in them. 

Of course, I didn't have a green thumb, and futhermore, I had even less time to water and prune and take care of flowers.  My excuse was that I had triplet babies, but the next year I would.  It was my dream ... I had visioned it while thumbing through that old magazine.

My window boxes were taken down a couple of months ago when we recontructed our kitchen, after I had made the executive decision to take out a wall of windows.  They were laid to rest on the ground next to our house by the Contractor .... and that's where they've been ever since.


The two sets of double windows that were directly above my beautiful window boxes are now gone ... and TODAY Von decided to tell me that he hadn't wanted those windows removed.  Well ... now's a fine time to tell me Lucille. 
 
I had to peek out the window to see want he was doing with my boxes ... and I watched him gently lay each one down, side by side on the ground.  He knows that later this evening I'll walk down the path to the old barn, and I'll dump the old dirt out, and carry my boxes back to where I have my other treasures that I've come up with since I've moved to this farm.
 
He knows that I'm a dreamer ... and I love magazines and pictures and have visions.  He knows that keeps me happy and keeps me here, and he knows that I'll always be that way ... and he knows that forty years from now, my window boxes will still be in that old barn along with all my other treasures of the Heart.