The Green Woman

My wife, Tamara, is a miracle of nature. She grew up in rural Utah, a feral child who knew which plants are edible: sucking the nectar out of flowers and eating "cheesies" (a weed) from the yard. She was out and unsupervised from dawn until dusk.

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She is a master cook. She can make pies from scratch. Any kind of food from scratch. She gathers fruit from local trees and makes jam every summer. She keeps a clean kitchen, a well-stocked pantry and cooks up a storm morning noon and night.

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She is thrifty. She loves to buy things on sale. When she splurges it's on food and staple items.

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She is quick to serve, to rush out and help a soul in need. She gives without counting the cost.

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She is the genuine article. She wears the same face in public and in private. There is no guile. She is quick to forgive and never bears a grudge, not even for ten minutes. She probably won't even get upset about me posting this quite unflattering pic. It's a moment of fun for us while cleaning the garage.

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We've been married now fifteen years. She has brought four gorgeous, healthy children into our lives. She bore each of them natural-like with no intervention. She goes into this trance and lets it happen.

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The day we met, she wore a green lace dress. We were at church. I was a Sunday School teacher and she was in my class. From the day of our first date to engagement was nineteen days. I guess I had a lick of sense after all. I sensed that Tamie was a good thing going.