The sun slowly warms the ground on which we lie. A mourning dove coos gently from her perch on the cabin roof. A cool breeze blows off the lake, ruffling Bon Iver’s hair and sending a sea of dandelion pods sailing across the yard. The chickens are clucking away in their coop and the cat is stalking a mouse that has taken refuge under the porch. We have a jug of wine and a bag of roasted pecans we bought from a booth at the state fair. Bon Iver plays a lazy tune on his harmonica while I work the Sunday crossword. We are young and in love. ‘What’s a two-letter word for happiness?’ I ask. Without missing a beat Bon Iver replies, ‘Us.’
