It wasn’t the Valentine’s evening that most people would love, but for me, last night was close to perfection. Unexpectedly, my husband demonstrated to me in spades how much he loves me. I was planning to cook a romantic dinner for the two of us since my daughter is away for the weekend. Around five o’clock, I asked my dear one if he would mind dumping the wheelbarrow for me so I could finish mucking in the barn. The horses were tucked in their stalls, enjoying their dinners.
My husband has been away working for several weeks, so he hasn’t had a chance to really see what’s going on around the barn. He arrived home on the night of the big snowstorm, and we’ve spent the last couple of days plowing and digging out. Now, I found him staring at the roof of the barn, which had over a foot of snow piled up on it. “I’m afraid that might collapse, “ he announced grimly. He went down to the garage and came back with the roof rake. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this essential piece of equipment, the handle on the rake is about twelve feet long and is attached to a solid shovel thingie that is about a foot wide.
Climbing up on a snowdrift next to Siete’s stall, he began clearing the middle of the barn roof. There was a layer of ice, a filling of snow and another thick layer of ice, so he had to clear it in stages. Siete was pretty concerned about all that banging and scrapping over her head, so I hung out with her and tried to keep things mellow. I considered putting the horses out in the runway we had plowed in the pasture, but they were already cozy inside. I also thought that it would be good for them to learn to remain calm despite the weird, sort of scary noises and all the snow that came tumbling down off the roof. Two hours later, we moved over to Silk’s side of the barn. Silk was less nervous but I’m sure that’s because she got some time having all her favorite itchy spots scratched by me. My husband’s arms were killing him, but he was determined to clear the middle of the roof so that no horses would be trapped or crushed in the night.
He’s not a horsey-guy, but in these type of equine-related difficult moments, he always proves how much he loves me. Around eight o’clock, a magnificent full moon emerged over the trees. The light was golden and so bright reflecting on the snow that we had no trouble seeing what we were doing. I kept suggesting that maybe he had done enough, but my Valentine hero refused to do a half-hearted job. Finally, around nine, we staggered back up the icy path to the house.
Valentine’s Day dinner was leftover chili in front of the fire with some delicious 25 year old Armagnac while we watched an old black and white “Perry Mason” re-run. It couldn’t have been more perfect. What a guy!