It's a love story

I grew up on a farm.... I remember as a child, I would go out in the blazing sun with my dad.  He would take a pitch fork and hand me the other, and we would go out through the seemingly MILES of hay, turning one heavy section at a time with the pitch fork. Over and over and over.  Those rows of raked hay seriously seemed to go on forever and ever, but I guess they didn't, because eventually we would finish... and then... what a sense of accomplishment! 

I remember how much my dad LOVED the farm.  I didn't really know why.  My mom had no clue.  No one knew the answer to this great mystery, because everyone knows a farmer's work is never done, yet it is a thankless job in many ways... especially the money-making way.  There's no money to be made on a small farm in WV.  My dad just loved farming... period.  He would spend hours fixing fence, tending to cows, shoveling cow manure out of the barn, working on a tractor.... basically because he wanted to do it. 

Alec at age 9 with my dad.  He was so proud!

My mom said, "Stephanie, never marry a farmer."

So.... fast forward 30 some years later.....

My husband Steve mowing hay...

Our shoes .... I looked down and snapped this picture as Steve and I rode together on the tractor.

 What is it about this man that I love so much it makes my heart ache?  This man who is so like my dad....

Is it his kind eyes?  His cowboy boots?  The bandana he carries in his hip pocket?  The way he handles a tractor?  His love of the land?  The way he can stand and look at a new calf for hours?