A farmer in Hebron fell in love with Maria and congratulated me on finding her (she actually found me) and marrying me.

“You know,” he said, slapping me on the back, “every old dog hits the hydrant once in a while.”

It wasn’t the most elegant compliment I ever received, but I laughed out loud and shook his hand. It was true. I knew Maria was wonderful, but I had no idea just how wonderful.

I know she’s a wonderful artist, but she’s a demon on a roof or with a lawnmower or scythe or drill or sledgehammer as well. My grandmother would fall over in a swoon if she saw the things a woman can do on a farm.

Sometimes I think Maria came to me straight out of a Willa Cather novel.

She just happily and efficiently stacked seven cords of firewood and filled up our woodshed. We have enough wood to get us through winter – $180 a cord – every piece cut by Greg Burch, the finest logger for many miles.

Maria saw this as a creative project, Greg said this is the sweetest job of stacking he’s ever seen. And this is the earliest that we have a barn full of hay and a shed full of wood.  Bring it on.

There is nothing more important on a farm like this than getting your wood and hay in early. It gets hard to find and expensive the longer you wait.

For several years, we hired local kids to stack our wood. They always struggled with corners, and the wood often came tumbling down over the winter.

A couple of years ago, Maria decided she wanted to do it, and I argued against it, it’s hard and sweaty work. She designed the wood in her mind, just like she designs a quilt. It’s all art to her.

She loves it, she loves being outdoors, getting exercise and she sees the wood as a sculpting project, a creative chance to do her art. She doesn’t want any help, and if I try, she chases me away.

I have to say the old farmer was right. I did hit the hydrant, and I still smile whenever I think of it. Zinnia was excited when Mari finished stacking this evening. She was the first to congratulate her.