Some people celebrate March madness. Not me; I take time in March to be sentimental. 

I remember the beginning of the most important relationship under God I will ever have on this earth. It was only a mere 16 years ago that I first began my relationship in high school with my wife. 

Since then we’ve experienced the passions with which each of us grew up separately, together. I showed her hunting and fishing, and she showed me the farm where we now wait for our house to be built and where we’ve been growing our farm business. 

We’ve taught each other so much throughout the years about how to live abundantly from the land God made. The best part is the things we get to learn together on top of our collective experience and knowledge. 

Some of my favorite memories include taking her out on the Duck Harbor Pond. Not two generations before me, my family owned the entirety of the Duck Harbor pond and the sawmill and valley below, where its waters poured out. 

Now, our family may not own the area, but we still fish and enjoy the lake as our ancestors did. When I was in high school, I bought a vintage boat from my uncle. The boat was a 1967 Starcraft Chieftain with a forward cabin and a large rear fishing deck. As far as first dates go, I don’t think I could have done much better than when I took my darlin’ out in my classy old boat and chug-chugged along with the fishing poles out the back. She didn’t get out fishing much before me and was very into the boat ride, the cool evening weather and sunset on the lake—and most of all, the feeling of success as she hauled up what turned out to be a rather special catch. 

Back then, there was a large floating island toward the south end of the lake. Around it, I would normally find success locating walleye, perch, crappie and big bass. 

That afternoon, I had gotten some herring to use for live bait and we had them out in a spread across the front of the island. We caught a few panfish, which we threw back, but then she caught a skillet-sized crappie that looked too cool to release. So we took it home and decided to cook it up. It was only after I botched my attempted fish-cooking skills that my dad looked at a picture we took of it and informed us it was a rare silver crappie. 

FYI, if you’re a young guy whose girlfriend catches a silver crappie, just get it mounted. She’ll like that more than a burnt plate of shredded fish filet with American cheese melted on top. Gordon Ramsey would not have been kind to me.

Regardless, she still had a good time and it remains one of my favorite dates of all time. It was so good that she invited me back to the farm to learn a few things from her. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was already well-versed in shoveling poop. That is what all farming eventually comes down to after all, but I was happy to do it for the lovely company. And of course she was right there with me putting in the sweat and effort. 

The way out here our lives are built on work and play alike. When you find someone who can do both just as well as the other with you, you think quickly about taking them down to the old church, so to speak. I knew by the time I had dated her for three months I was going to marry her—and she likewise. Nine years later, after high school, college and some time studying abroad, we stood on the top of the hill on her family farm and celebrated our union before our families.