What is it about a dozen roses nested in soft white baby’s breath that makes any female feel so special? Is it the simple beauty of the blooms themselves or the indulgent extravagance of their expense? Or is it that fact that our sweet man was thoughtful enough to shower such a frivolous gift on us. After all, these fragrant lovelies will wilt away slowly much to our disappointment. I have never asked my husband to actually buy me roses. I’m sure I have jokingly made some inference to how much all women like to receive flowers once in a while and that even a wildflower from the field would suffice. But never even hinted toward roses. But I’m so glad he did despite how short their gorgeous lives will last. This Valentine’s Day he brought home a dozen roses, a beautiful card with one of those musical messages about how he would “stand by me” and later drove me 45 minutes away to buy the chickens I have been wanting for so long now. Laugh if you will, but it was one of the most romantic Valentine’s Days ever! So, for the past 5 mornings I’ve gotten up to be greeted by a dozen red roses on my kitchen counter and 8 Rhode Island Red laying hens in their cozy backyard coop. I feel so special and loved!