My Funny Valentine

What a difference a year makes. One trip around the sun ago, Hubs and I trudged through our snowy driveway, dressed in our finest, to enjoy one of the most memorable meals we've ever shared, at Asheville's The Admiral. We stashed our "fancy" shoes in a satchel and made our way down the snow-covered dirt road in snow boots, guided by the dim glow offered by a fading flashlight and a sliver of moon. Once at the car, we changed into heels and loafers and set out for an epic evening.

A year later, we're enjoying over-easy eggs on rye bread with strong coffee at home in our p.j.'s with our favorite Valentine. In our home, gestures of love happen on a daily basis. They come in the form of a scratch-made plate of the best sloppy joes you have ever tasted (made with local pastured beef and served alongside purple sweet potato fries, to boot!). They're evidenced in freshly laundered clothing lovingly folded and put away. They remember each others preferences, predilections, strengths and assets and capitalize on them.

Sure, there are profound, grandiose, sweeping gestures of affection. And they're mighty appreciated. We love the little things the best, though. The hot mug of tea or coffee made every morning, doctored up in just the way he likes it. The delicious stews, seasoned with my favorite herbs. The small measures because, you know, that's what it's all about.

From we three Englishes, with love.

*Thanks to my abiding, oh so dear, much adored friend Bonner for the adorable onesie Huxley is sporting above, pictured with his Gigi (my mom) yesterday.