Among the many, many blessings in my life—kind, imaginative children; sweet, extraordinary pets; a bountiful garden; loving friends; a close-knit community; a place to live in a beautiful corner of the world—I have a husband who is very, very good with his hands (among other things). It amazes me when Mr. Puddle Run turns a pile of scrap lumber into a useful structure, and it amazes me when he goes shopping for a project and knows just what to buy and how to use it. His intellectual and physical aptitude combine to make him a skillful remodeler, which works to make our home tremendously more beautiful, comfortable, and enjoyable than I ever thought it could be. Mr. PR, with virtually no budget, has managed to move walls, lay floors, add storage, hang doors, repair sheetrock, install windows, and so on. I do what I can—painting walls, steadying loads, fetching tools, laying tile—but Mr. PR is the master. He envisions and then executes the building of sound, beautiful things. He does so quickly and affordably, too, which turns his work from craftsmanship into something closer to magic.
Mr. PR and I dream of building a house together someday, and I think we both know that means he will build and I will help. I hope to be a good and useful helper, and to that end I practice when I can.