By WENDY HODGE
When last we met, I was in the midst of a bidding frenzy at Bell’s Daylily Spectacular with a chance to take home the daylily of my dreams….
“Going for $40,” Mr. Bell calls out.
I look around. Tim has roused and is grinning at me. His mom sits wide-eyed next to me.
“Sold for $40 to number 103, number 68 and number 92!” I hear as if from a distance.
“You won it!” Tim said.
“I won it!” I answer back. “Holy cow!”
And just like that, I am holding the one daylily I never thought I’d possess. And I got it under budget.
I imagine myself at Christie’s auction house in London, raising my paddle to outbid the entire room, spending millions as if they were dollar bills … Tim sees the gleam in my eye and slowly removes my bidding card from my hand the way you’d take a bottle of Wild Turkey out of a tipsy teenager’s grasp.
He knows me too well.
As the auction draws to a close, the two barrels of raffle tickets are brought to the tent in preparation for the grand finale. Grasping our red ticket stubs in both hands, we are ready to win. This year is the year.
The first number is called, and the winner jumps up in the back of the crowd. “That’s me!” she shouts.
There is a brief pause before the final number is called… and it’s the gentleman sitting directly behind me. “Hot dog!” he yells and leaps to his feet.
And just like that, the Spectacular is over. Folks begin to stand and gather their bags of goodies, tossing empty plates and Coke cans in the trash. Women hug each other while men shake hands and swap tips for navigating back to the interstate. New friends exchange numbers, and old friends promise to call soon.
Our little group is tired and weary from the heat, but we have that leftover euphoria of having spent the day surrounded by beauty and good people. There’s also the inevitable letdown that comes when a much-anticipated day has come to a close.
We make our way to the truck and climb in.
“Well, that was just an amazing day,” Tim’s mom says. “I can’t wait for next year.”
“Me, too,” I answer. “Only 364 days until the next one.”
The ride home is quiet, punctuated by the Alabama game on the radio. The Crimson Tide is not doing well this Saturday, and Tim’s family has become nervous. Alabama fans don’t quite know how to deal with being behind in the score — they’re just not used to it. Us Auburn folks, though, well — that’s a different kettle of fish altogether.
I offer to drive so Tim can focus his entire energy on helping his team pull ahead, but he declines. He’s too wound up to be a passenger, he says.
With a few seconds left in the game, Alabama pulls ahead. And, as if they’re one person, the other occupants of the truck all exhale together. Alabama wins, and all is right with the world. Bless their hearts.
Our new tradition is to stop at Carroll’s Sausage Outlet on the way home. We pick up a pound or two of the best sausage I’ve ever had, along with some apple butter and chocolate-covered pecans. Two perfect filets round out our purchase. That’s the dinner we’ll share when we get home.
The rest of the trip is just like the trip up. We laugh and talk and plan our next adventure. Arriving at the lake, we say goodbye to Tim’s parents, leaving them pondering where they are going to plant their new blooms. They stand side by side and wave as we drive off. Watching them recede in the rearview mirror, I smile with gratitude. They are two of my favorite people in this entire world, and I am so lucky to know them.
And then we are home. We unload the blooms we bought and fill buckets with water to soak them overnight. Tomorrow, we will spend the whole morning in the garden, planting and labeling the chart I’ve made for each bed. Names and heights and colors are noted, bloom times and frequencies. It’s a lovely language that I’m learning as the seasons pass.
This is my favorite time of this weekend — this time when the long, wonderful day is done and the thrill of gardening waits for tomorrow. This is the golden time when it’s just the two of us, Tim and I. Tim cooks the steaks to perfection, and we eat “like kings and queens,” as Tim likes to say.
Curled up on the couch with a movie playing on the TV, we both begin to doze.
“I loved today,” I say quietly.
“So did I,” Tim whispers back.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“For?” he asks.
“Everything,” is my answer. “All of this, our life… us. Thank you.”
He takes my hand and replies, “Thank you right back.”
Tomorrow we will plunge our hands into the dark earth and make a new home for so much loveliness that we will take care of and protect through the winter and marvel at all spring and summer. For now, this right here, with this man I love so much, is — well — spectacular.
