They had walked this path at least once a week for the past fifty years and more. Ever since they were married, in fact. It would have been lovely, looking back, to say that, as they strolled, their feet making barely any noise, muffled by the decaying leaves that mouldered in the damp moss growing there, that the sun was always an apricot glow behind the tree's charcoal bark. It wasn't, of course, but sometimes it was.
Walking side by side is normal but they always followed the tracks that the farm vehicles had imprinted over generations of continual use, it was if the tracks were made for the two of them so that they could walk comfortably alongside each other but slightly distant.
They often chatted as they walked, about life's trivialities and it's triumphs; about the most mundane of things and the most important. But, more often than not, they walked together quietly, even in silence. They thought their own thoughts, fought their own internal battles and poured privately over stored memories.
If they stretched, they could hold hands and sometimes they did that too, and smiled.
Time up.
Inspiration: I say this picture on Pinterest. I can't find the original source other-wise I'd be happy to give credit. The pinner said that it was Godolphin Wood in Cornwall. Photographer unknown.
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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.