Big Hands

I wake early to the dog asking to go out.  And when I return to the warmth of our bed, I rest my head against his broad chest.  He is fast asleep, he does not so much as stir.  I love this wide king bed, where we can sleep seperately and yet share a bad.  He has his blankets, I have mine, no hogging or tugging.  I feel safe here against him the dog between our legs.  I know the safety comes only from inside me.  I have no fear with this man, I never worry where he is, whom he is with, and if he might be finding interest in someone else, it just isn’t there.  I have this deep feeling of being satisfying to him.  I know it only comes from within me, but he is not critical, he loves what he gets from me, he is pleased, and content, and laughs when I curse, or belch or act goofy.  I do not have to be a lady, and yet I am treated with the deepest respect.

In the truck we were discussing what was left to be done at his mom’s house, and at our house.  And I said we still need to get something in writing that says I can remain in the house as long as I need to if something happens to you. His son asks, aren’t I in charge of the house if something happens?  Yes.  I say, I just don’t want to be scrambling for a new place to live and be out on the street in three days.

Like I would do that, he says.

A man like his father.

And as we watch the boys being silly on stage, his son comes up to us and says, I want to say hi to my family.  There is only Tom and I there.  I hear his words on the inside of me, like a gift, unexpected, and cherished.

I put my giant hands, long fingers, calloused and rough, chipped nails, and dry skin from too much washing, my hard work woman hands into his.

My hands shrink, and are soft and so feminine, and yet they are still my hands.

He is so big, so strong, so gentle.

And this is why I feel so safe and I tell him.

That is because I will always protect you.

I know I don’t need it, I have managed on my own for a long long time.  But still, I like how it feels.


Making a House a Home




There is no need to post a before picture, it was piled with old leaves and nothing more.

In this corner, under the windows that will be my studio.  The door for now not usuable but a plan in the works.  Two hibiscus already in place, and I have added bee balm, mullein, lavendar, three thyme varieties, oregano, echinacea, sage, chamomile, salvia, dragons blood sedum, liatrus, forget me nots, evening primrose and this other plant name I forget but has hot pink flowers and a silver leaf.  But it is a perennial.

In the back I have transplanted three healthy rhubarb roots, that have babies, so they are in a good spot, and covered them with three year old horse poop, from Andreas.  I did a walk around today and the borage I got from her is happy in it’s new spot, also I have tansy and comfrey, so with the exception of garlic, ginger and elderberry, I am satisfied with my herbs.  Next year I will focus on a garden.

After driving back from Andreas yesterday I trimmed back the grove of pines at the back of the property where I found milkweed and more mullein.  And poison ivy.  And the back end of the property has a huge old sycamore.  It looks like black caps also grow along one edge and there is sumac, edible in the apocalypse, and more milkweed growing there.

Tom is a willing partner in all my endeavors.  Even though he was set to relax and chill at the house,  He came out to help me, dug all the holes for the garden in the front, and spread all the mulch for me, laughing and teasing and joking with me through the whole thing.  And yesterday, piling up the branches I had trimmed and using a small chainsaw to cut down the almost no longer a sapling maples, and a snow cracked pine that was not salvageable.

We have much to do still.  One task is the free woodstove offered by Jim and Andrea, that will save us about 1000 dollars.  And this week the painting will begin in the big room.  More to follow.



It is as though I have waited my whole adult life for this.  Any dissatisfaction was ultimately because I knew I could do better, I knew something was missing.

I tell him, in my corny stupid way, I don’t know where to put all this, I have no container for the way I feel on the inside, its like a million stars exploding inside me and there is no place to put it all.

He just smiles, that one where his lips are in place, but the muscles on his face are dimpled.  I love that smile best of all.

And I don’t, the ex husband, the ex boyfriend.  The years and years of wishing someone would be beside me, would appreciate me, would not care about my quirks and odd places, would not tear me down.  We work together, tearing out old screens and putting in new ones, he does not stop until they are all done, though I tired after only two.  I want that room to be done for you, he says.  And after dinner when we are both tired, he says, lets go outside and put those plants in.  He stands beside me, digging holes while I place the plants in the ground, puling a hose from the garage so I can water them.  Thanks I tell him.  And there it is that smile that I love.

And since he has put a stunning emerald cut amethyst on my finger set in white gold, his kisses seem more tender, as th.ough now that he has me, he will treat me with even greater care and tenderness and respect.  After a long weekend of togetherness, I ask him if he needs his space.  He puts the pillow on his lap and says, put your head here and read like you always do.  I have all the alone time I need, and I want to be with you as much as I can be.




How many many years have I wished for such a thing, a person who loves my company?

And who honors me?

And who thinks I am okay, just exactly as I am?

And who is willing to change anything just to be with me?  Though all I ask for is a tidy house, that four bachelors have struggled to maintain.  Its okay he says, I am tired of living in a filthy house, though it is not so much filth as it is just not being organized and having a place for everything.

I know this because I have watched him clean many times.

And best of all, when I make a mess, he does not shame me.

And when some paperwork turns up missing, and I am breathing hard, my heart racing, I am so sorry I say, I must have thrown it away, when I put the papers in the recycle bin, we have just returned from the dump.  He remains calm and after a minute finds it.

Thank you I say.  tearful.  For what?  For not yelling at me.  Why would I?

Why would you?


This is joy.