Often I dream of being with you in the forest glen in the spring. On one warm day would drive to one of those beautiful private places in the mountains. It would be where there is water, maybe a small pond or lake way up in the distance that we would hike to.
The grass would be so green, and with May Lilies dotting the hills all over he countryside. Perhaps we could take our lunch with us. A picnic with chicken or cheese and crackers with one of those wines you told me about. I would carry the lunch basket and wine and you could carry our blanket. Maybe we could walk along the stream that empties from our small pond or just through the whisping tall grass. Waterfalls along the way and little pools for the fish.
The waters crystal clear, babbling over the rocks and fallen trees making music with the wind softly swaying the tall trees. The green tall grass next to the path along the stream worn only by the little animals that travel along the stream. This is no place that people travel, we want to be alone. I would hold your hand while we climbed up the gentle slopes along the stream. We could stop and pick flowers to lace in your hair, watch butterflies flitter to and fro.
It would be a place we could turn around and look far off to the distance and see the other mountains covered in forest green, and a carpet of may lilies blooming here and there.