Affirming sun splashes on every bared surface. Down by the river, Mr and me are climbing trees. The river runs lower than we've ever seen, the water clear enough to show where the rocks are pointed, where the mud slides to depths. Mesmerised, one foot slides astride a trunk, lands one leg in a bramble tangle. No harm done: if anything, more laughter appears. Okay, maybe today is not the day for shimmying out on the branch that overhangs those incisive boulders. But still, foot scuffs in the moss of the thick trunked fallen tree: they are proof of this: I was here: I laughed.


  1. Laughter; the blessing the faeries bestowed upon us, or so I firmly believe.

  2. Wonderful. When we walk in the woods, I have to hold myself back from shimmying or walking out into some precarious places I would've thought nothing about exploring years ago. Of course, my hubby helps hold me back, too, probably because he doesn't want to have to drag my somewhat-larger-than-it-used-to-be butt outta there.


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