I stop by his work, have you been outside yet, I ask as he kisses me, in front of everyone. It is really gorgeous we both say at the same time. I want to walk, I tell him. I do too, he says. I mean I really want to walk, no getting home and changing your mind, I say. And then, I will just meet you there. What do you mean? he asks. The day is just too beautiful to NOT go. But then as it turns out he beats me home, because he left work early so I wouldn’t walk without him. I text him earlier in the day, you have to make sure I know you love me, I say, you cannot forget. As we walk up the long dark hill surrounded by buckthorn, he reaches out and pats my shoulder, I am glad we are here together, he says. Me too I say, pleased. At the crest of hill the golden sunshine is lovely, I look and see the valley from three sides, what a view. The crows are here, they have filled every tree and dot the gravel field down below. They sing the background to the whole evening, cawing and doing that odd gurgling sound that crows make, as we wander. We continue on, and find the field strew with shotgun shells, porcelain chunks, old tires. The sun is setting, and the moon is rising, it is soft white spot on the bright blue sky. The ground is wet and dark and the water droplets shine silver on the dark green blades of grass. The mud is soft and there are big deer tracks in it, and now mine on top, we stop as we hear a whuffing sound of a deer in the buckthorn brush beside us, we stop to look at a shrub, do you know what that is, he asks, willow I say definitively. Yup, he says. There are tall reeds and we walk through them, and then duck under an over grown arch of buckthorn as we make our way back to the car, hunkering down to avoid the long dark and close underbrush, stopping to mark a meeting place should things go awry in the zombie apocalypse. You are a goofball I tell him. Shush he says. That was an awesome walk he says. Thanks for going with me I say.