Lost days

Listen. When my life is beautiful I never have the time to share it. And then on some cold, boring winter day I find the files on my computer again, dreaming about the good times. Gone.
Above you can see the golden hour of this day. We went to one of my friends' (she has a huge property with plants and trees and a forest and a pond and a barn) and slept in a little cosy garden house. Great memory.