I tossed down the pitchfork, with which I'd been flipping and fluffing mulch at the base of a maple tree, and hurried over to plant a grateful and passionate kiss on my sweet husband's lips.
"What was that for?" he asked, steadying himself.
"For digging those three great holes for me," I answered, smiling.
"Oh, okay," he said, grabbing up his shovel with enthusiasm. "Where would you like your canal?"