I wish to write a treatise on my good wife. I believe she deserves one after her past endeavors to make our life more pleasant.

Not that I wish to make her out to be perfect, she has her little quirks and foibles as everyone does.

I even have a few myself, although I have been fortunate in being able to suppress them enough to make a favorable, if not approbative, appearance.

But this is about my wife, not myself, even if I do make an appearance here from time to time, just to illustrate a point. I am, after all, a very shy and reserved person, as any of my good friends will tell you.

I would first like to compliment her on her cooking. She learned from her mother, an exceptionally talented woman in the kitchen, probably to make up for her traits in other aspects of her personality.

But the Mrs. is a wonder with the pots and pans, serving up the most delectable meals of fresh vegetables in the summer and, due to her canning, all through the winter, too.

She takes great pride in her garden, as well she should, as she spend countless hours, hoeing and weeding. That's not even taking into account the time she spends in the Spring, turning the soil.

She's getting a little old to be pulling the plow though, and I may have to get a horse or tractor one of these years. That would give her a little more fertilizer too as I don't think she gets quite enough from the cow, although she does get a goodly amount of milk when she milks it twice daily. At least enough for her to make some fine cheeses and for the table.

She is of Irish heritage and I've always heard that they are a hardworking people as I can attest to when I'm sitting on the porch watching her digging up the potato harvest in the Fall. It does my heart good to take her some cool water and a towel to wipe her brow at times like this.

Then there's the laundry. I don't know how she gets all those brown stains from my underwear and the tobacco stains from my shirts. The sheets and pillow cases are always spotless and smell so sweet after hanging on those lines she has strung in the back of the house. Even those cute dresses and blouses she makes from the empty feed bags come out beautiful after she gets the fire in the stove going so she can heat the irons for pressing them.

Don't tell her, I want it to be a surprise when I get her a wringer washing machine instead of the washboard she wears out every year. Don't you think that will make a dandy Christmas present? I'm always trying to think of ways to make it easier for her, like when I got her a chain saw instead of using an ax to cut the firewood. She was so appreciative it made me warm all over, even though she hadn't laid a fire yet.

I don't think I mentioned the chickens yet. I should have when I was talking about food. Well, once she had the chicken coop built and got the chickens, things got even better. Fresh eggs for breakfast and some fine dinners of fried, boiled, fricasseed, roasted, and great chicken soup for some fine dinners.

She had more eggs than we needed so she built a little stand on the road and sold eggs and vegetables. She's even thinking of a pig pen when she gets enough lumber sawn for a pig house. Won't that be something, our own bacon with the eggs!

She learned some great carpentry skills building the chicken coop and vegetable stand, enough to reshingle the house last year when the roof started leaking. We didn't notice it right away as the snow wasn't melting, but when it did she got right on it. Shoveled it clean and nailed those shingles tight as a drum.

Yesiree, when I think about how fortunate I was to win her hand in marriage I wonder why some men don't appreciate their wives more and try to make life easier for them. For example, I went way out of my way to find that second job for her.

Now, as I sit by the fire, watching her scrub the floor between nursing the baby and turning the flapjacks, I just can't figure out how some men can be so inconsiderate.

Just a minute, I'll be right back, she asked me to get a pad for her knees, and I'm glad to be able to do it for her.