Last weekend, Soren and I rented a car and headed up to his uncle’s lake house in New Hampshire. We spent a lovely weekend canoeing, reading, picking apples, grilling steaks, entertaining family, and dozing in front of the fire.
On our last day, the weather was beautiful. So we decided to walk a half mile to the General Store to get coffee and a breakfast snack. Harrisville, NH, is adorable. According to a real estate brochure we saw, it is the most photographed town in New England.
On the way, we stopped at the public beach to goof off.
Soren took photos while I made attempt after increasingly dramatic attempt to leap onto this rock, which, as you can see, was not all that far from shore.
Then, a surprising twist! Just as I was about to say, “We better get a move on before my hunger turns me into a whirling dervish of fury and irrational hatred,” he sat me down on the sand and proposed. Yes, marriage. I accepted. And then I cried a little. And then we took some pictures.This is the spot where it happened:
And this is me demonstrating where my ring will go:
Soren knows how picky I am. So he didn’t buy a ring ahead of time. He wanted me to help him pick it out. Wise move. Not having a ring is so much better than having a ring you hate but have to pretend to like.
But I think Soren felt bad that he didn’t give me anything round, not even a lifesaver or a fruit loop. So this week he went out and bought me a lovely little silver ring with an amethyst on it. He didn’t need to, but I’m happy that he did. Every time I look at my hand, I smile.