"Follow me," I winked. "I know a secret way to keep warm."
And away we went, at sundown, to our hideaway in the forest. Winter was blessing us with a last severe kick, in mid-February, just in time for Valentine's Day.
Wind, out in the open on the frozen lake crossing, whistled past our covered ears and poked icy talons into tiny patches of naked cheeks. Dunes of pure white snow, whipped by the north wind, glistened golden in the sunset glow, as we bounced our way, laughing, gloating, and grunting, toward a crescent moon in the darkening sky.
We arrived after sunset. The chickadees were already bedded for the night. The fire I had started earlier in the cabin stove welcomed us like a good host, and the wine had warmed up to a smooth slush.
Romance beckoned for the weekend Valentine retreat.