If you think being wooed by a farmer is all muddy pick-ups and hand-holding so rough it exfoliates, you're only half right. The farmer in this backyard has brought me flowers six times in the last week, and hasn't once had to pay for them (which is likely the real ticket to romancing my frugal, financial counselor's heart), thanks to our neighbor's generosity and Abe's fearlessness in the face of tick-infested fields. Hydrangeas, gardenias, wildflowers, a small bunch of roses and this beautiful magnolia, which came with a note:
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| We married in South Carolina, and my aunt and grandmother used magnolias (native to the area) in my bouquet. |
Yes, I'm know: I'm the luckiest.
Go, Abe! Love it when he loves on our girl. (P.S. Come see our magnolias while they're in bloom!)
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