At some point it occurred to me. I'm not the only one my husband is madly in love with.
Perhaps it became clear when he showed me the picture perfect shooting range he discovered, a bright green peninsula of land canopied by walnut, oak and hickory trees... or when he became obsessed with clearing brush, spraying stubborn multiflora rose and forging paths... or it could've been late Saturday night as he and I sat by the chiminea while the harvest moon shone down on us. That's when he explained how happy being on this property made him. And that's when it struck me. I'm not the only love of his life. He's got a thing for the great outdoors, being in the woods, the back holler. Something about the air, the sounds, the freedom, the sky, the smells... could it be any more perfect? The answer arrived Sunday when a discovery was made.
There are fish.
And with that said, I can officially say my husband is whipped.
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