So I went for a walk with the missus the other day. That’s not a new thing for us, we actually try to get a walk in most every day. This day we were up at Fillmore Glen State Park—first time we had been there (it’s just south of Moravia, in Cayuga County, in case you want to go).

We got there early and there was still a bit of frost on the ground. We passed a couple who were on their way out, and they warned us that the bridges were a bit icy yet. Other than those two, we didn’t see a single person out in front of us. Perfect.

The first thing you come to is a bridge, a massive stone bridge that connects the north and south trails. There was an inviting side trail we wanted to take before we began the main hike, so we crossed over and found our way to this little path. It wove its way along the creek until it opened up into a huge grotto. Way above our heads a waterfall leapt off an overhanging rock into a pool cut deep by years of erosion. Great way to start this adventure.

We made our way back to the main trail and had to cross that massive stone bridge again. I’m not sure why—maybe it was to warm up on this cold morning, maybe it was because we had the trail to ourselves, maybe it was just because…but I pulled my wife close and told her that every time we crossed a bridge we had to kiss.

I should point out that my wife and I have been doing the boyfriend/girlfriend thing for forty-eight years. By now she is pretty used to my shenanigans. She grinned and, with a bit of twinkle in those beautiful eyes, upped the ante and informed me that it had to be a good kiss, too.

And so we did. Now remember, we had never been on this trail. I honestly had no idea that there were a dozen bridges on this trail each way. We were at the farthest point away from the parking lot, almost three miles of trail behind us, when we met our first fellow hikers. They were a bit older than us, taking a breather on—you guessed it—a bridge.

As we approached I wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. I certainly did not want to make anyone uncomfortable. We stepped onto the bridge and exchanged the customary, “Beautiful morning for a hike” greeting. They smiled warmly at us, and it was that moment of acceptance that tilted the scales in favor of a smooch. “Excuse us,” I said, “but we are playing a bit of a game where we kiss on each bridge.” And with that I planted a big loud one on my wife’s lips. They both laughed and gave us the “awww, that’s sweet” signal that no one was offended. We continued on but could hear them laughing, “We are so not playing that game.”

Shame—it made for an amazing hike.