A Little “Snug Hollow” with My Husband

We are here at Snug Hollow in Irvine, Kentucky and everything they say about it is true…It really is an attack on the senses but in all of the best of ways…

From the first time I ventured up the steps to the loft bedroom and my toes knew the joy that comes from the feel of fresh wood underneath them to my toes being lightly pinched as they stepped on a knot in the pine.  It reminded me of the early dreaming-stage of my and Ian’s relationship when we both agreed that being able to hear our grandbabies’ footsteps coming up the stairs of our home was one of our hopeful Papa and Granna goals.  The floors are exquisite in their soft give to my feet and I loved them immediately for their ability to remind me of that grandbaby dream.

Then, there is the hint of lavender and pinewood which tickles my nose and pulls me back to my Granny Perry’s home where she had lavender bushes surrounding its side.  It does the heart good to be drawn into such sweet memories and I sit at the foot of the stairs and take in both the smell, the view, and the memory of Granny.  For a minute, I can hear her singing to her birds.

Next, comes the creaking of the wooden beams over my head as I sit under the loft bedroom.  My husband has lowered himself to the bed to change into his walking boots and even though I can’t see him, I can tell he has placed himself on the edge as it squeaks in delight to have company on its side.  The beams in the ceiling above me sing of his visit gently grumbling as he moves around the room.

There is no adequate way to describe the singing of the birds.  Their voices are so clear, that Ian is easily able to teach me which bird is taking her turn in the chorus which echoes in the dusk as we sit on the wooden front porch.  Whippoorwill, cardinal, dove, and even the hoot of an owl voices their joy at being in such a lovely place.  We can hear a toad croaking out hoarsely into the night as we sit, determined not to go inside until the sun fully sets and the darkness is lit up by the lightening bugs and glow worms.

Night comes slowly and gently to the little “New” Cabin, as Barbara has named it.  And, it is all things you would want in a quick get a way with your husband.

Even getting here was an adventure reminiscent of those times where you take a “ride in the country” and accidentally get lost except in our case, this was no accident.  We entered Snug Hollow’s address into our GPS and went on our way never really certain it was actually going to get us to the right location.  While I didn’t grow up in or near hollow’s, I had spent the bulk of my adulthood traveling with my children to one and felt fairly comfortable with going to “out of the way” places.  But, I confess, trying to find this B & B was an experience unlike any other I have ever had.  We must have taken the back road of the back roads to get here, and frequently questioned our GPS’s up-dated-ness.  This is out there.  Really out there…but, we were not scared.  Just amused and delighted that this really was going to be the get-away of all get-a-ways, which is exactly what we have been searching for.

We enjoyed leaving the highway in our little beamer, “GracieJane” aptly named for the grace God has given us in life and Jane after Ian’s mother.  She’s a sweet, little ride perfectly suited to hug the curves of the road as we set ourselves out on our first adventure of 2020.

Spending time with Ian has been one of my favorite things to do since I was a young girl riding down Dixie Highway in his canary yellow Pontiac Lemans with black racing stripes down the side.  Ian was that church boy who drove all the rest of us to both outdoor and indoor movies, lakes, bowling trips, and parent approved church events.  Parents loved him because he was dependable and hard- working and girls loved him because he was cute and athletic…with all of that dark, curly hair!  And, all of us loved him because he was all things good, kind, and wholesome…well, at least most of the time:).

Being here at Snug Hollow floods both my heart and soul with so many precious memories of Ian.  As I sit across from him while we play our one-thousandth game of Rummy, love and tenderness for him washes over me.  He is my one…the man God knit for me sixty-three years ago and brought to me very early in my life.  And, while I did not realize that fully then, I do now, and that has made all the difference.

Gone is the black, curly headed boy with the flat feet who flew down both the track field  and Dixie Highway in his “yellow bathtub” Lemans.  And, while we lost an important thirty years together, having gone separate ways in the middle of our lives, God has blessed us with the richness that comes from loving each other for a very long time however separated we may have been.

And, being here, surrounded by nature and not much else, I am reminded of the goodness and grace of God.  And, I thank Him!

It occurs to me as we hike the hills, dales, meadows, and holler here that Ian and I have shared so much with one another our stories have become circular, always leading us back to our start that first time he pushed me on a swing during a church potluck.  We are prosaic in that we really do finish one another’s sentences, know what each other is thinking, and know when to “hold them and when to fold them” with one another.  We have both decided if we could only have the first or last part of adulthood together, we would choose the latter.  We grow old together in all the ways you want to grow old with someone.  He sees me beautiful, even as gray takes over my head.  I see him bold and daring, even as age creeps into his knees and shoulders.  He encourages me to dream while steadying himself to catch me as I fall and I embrace his love of old movies and sweets which draw him back to memories of his Daddy.

He humors me and my love for the beach, hats, and large glasses of unsweet tea. He shares in my joy at using his mothers “good” silver, the fancy china, and crystal goblets while growing gardens, edging the sidewalks and growing herbs I don’t always use but think look pretty in the flowerpots.

I listen to his silly jokes, adventures of out West, and War Eagle stories.  I commit to napping every weekend during football season while he watches Auburn, buy him all things orange and navy and tolerate his dog who makes it his life’s ambition to chew up all of my favorite things.

We talk and laugh about all of this and more as we take a break from the busyness of our lives and forage a path back to one another that has been put in the back seat while raising children, starting a new business, and growing into grandparenthood.

We decide to do this more often, this slowing down, holding hands, kissing unexpectedly and for no good reason other than we are in the presence of one another.  Snug Hollow has been a sweet adventure into reminding us that we can live without cell phones, computers, and cars, and that in fact, we can live better.

We thank God for the reminder that love nurtured is love grown…holding hands binds hearts, and snug embraces draw spirits closer.

Before our nightly Rummy game, I read this to Ian barely able to say the words for the tears and unexpected emotions which came flooding out.  He very worriedly said, “Don’t cry baby, what it wrong?” and I shared, “this is good emotion…this is what we came for…this is what Snug Hollow promises.”  Our trip here really was an attack on our senses in every way.  It tugged on or ability to settle down our minds, drawing out thoughts away from work and world and onto one another.  It brought our hands together as we foraged through the woods keeping each other steady as we crept over hill and dale.  It drew our eyes to our surroundings, our blessings, and to the face of one another, our very best friend.  We were reminded of the love we have for the way he smells straight from the shower and the light scent of my Love Spell perfume when I spray it wrist and neckline.  We laughed as we licked our fingers after eating syrupy pancakes freshly made by Barbara with the syrup so thick we struggled to find where pancake started and syrup ended.

This is what love is to us.  The snug fit of one another as we lean into one each other…and we are reminded, this life we have, it really is good