I remember it now. It was a hazy day, mid spring. I’m sure of it. She’d decided to explore the rocks a bit, then make her way to the Hills to a cabin we built. I remember telling her you can’t make a trip like that in a day. The cabin’s miles aways. Deep in those hills up there. Take a look! Nothing but tree spottin.

Ah, but she’d have none of my advice. She was wistful and wailed at the slight mention that she could be wrong about anything. “What! Milk in coffee!” simple stuff. For her nothing was simple. Even if she was wrong, she was right. Wilful Spitfire!

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