Fifteen years ago today, the corn was planted. And so were the beans, but only barely. Fifteen years ago today, my husband and I married in a country church in southern Illinois.
It was glorious, except for the planting season. John had finished beans on the Tuesday before, then drove to my parents' farm in Albion for our wedding a couple days later. Today, fifteen years later, we've finished planting everything - the first time - and are patching in some replant. But we won't talk about that.
Fifteen years ago, we married and it was wonderful. I bought my dress at The Farmer Store, we ate John Deere cake, and we celebrated the night away in my dad's machine shed. Then we came home and launched into farm life together. I knew I was, for sure, a farm wife when a few weeks later, John was talking in his sleep, mumbling, "Can you handle the sprayer?" And instead of simply realizing that he was a titch overwhelmed and talking in his sleep, my first thought was panic: "What?! No, I can't handle the sprayer!"
And now, 15 years later, I wouldn't change a thing. Life is good. I am the woman I am because I come home to this man every night. And that's a good feeling.
Happy Anniversary, John Spangler. Shmily.