This has been one of those weeks where I think I saw my farmer husband, but I'm not really sure. He's been SO busy for the last several days (not to mention that the rest of our family is busy too) that we've been like ships passing in the night.
But the weather has been beautiful harvest weather, and he must press on while the gathering is good.
In my 11th harvest as a farmer's wife, I've learned how to skillfully steal those little bits of time from him, without him resenting me or making him feel delayed. Sometimes I just "happen to be passing by later" so I offer to bring him lunch. Or I'll ask if the 2 year old (who seems to have a nearly unhealthy obsession with tractors) can steal a ride while I shuttle the older two around. Quality time for them, and ease of getting in and out of the grocery store for me. Win/Win!
But tonight he asked me to drive him about 20 miles west to pick up a semi that had been worked on this week. He hopped in the car and we headed out. We chatted about progress on the harvest, our plans for the weekend, and other odds and ends. Actually, it could have been considered a date if it weren't for the kids in the back of the van trying just as hard as me to have his attention. (I think at one point the poor guy actually fell asleep, but the kids just kept talking and never noticed).
So stealing those little bits of time has become an art form. I'm so skilled in my stealing time "trade" that he felt like he was asking a favor of me, when in reality this time with him was his favor to me.