While visiting with a friend of mine last week, I mentioned that my husband wishes I’d request flowers or candy for Valentine’s Day. It would be so simple. A quick trip to town, lay down some cash, and the entire holiday would be taken care of for him. Nope. Sorry. Flowers and candy are nice, don’t get me wrong. But if given a choice, I would much prefer he operate a little heavy equipment for me! Romantic, eh?

This year I requested top soil for my flower beds and vegetable gardens. (I can’t help it, in January and February I am convinced I could be a Master Gardener. By mid-summer, reality sets in and I am overwhelmed with watering, weeding and deadheading. Suddenly, I remember I am NOT a Master Gardener and promise I won’t do this to myself again next year. I repeat this every, single year.)

The great thing about this type of Valentine request? My husband loves it, too. He pretends to grumble and complain, but in reality he is just like any other guy, he loves to play in the dirt.

I’m already planning what I am going to need for Mother’s Day this year. Hmmm...possibly a little rototilling. There’s a chance I may need a few extra garden plots around here.