Bea in her green longjohned legs sprouting out of her sparkly pink nightgown, damp hair. . .she should drop off to sleep quickly. She gave a good, May Westish "Buh-bye" and then blew kisses indiscriminately as we walked up the stairwell. We had a funny sort of supper--tons of leftovers--but I told the girls they were having a four course dinner (better than what most princesses can boast) and they were utterly delighted: first course, scrambled eggs; whisked away to be replaced by beef stew; a plate then instead of a bowl and they ate up a piece of pizza; and finally I gave them each a rice bowl full of whipped cream for dipping their fruit.
We spent such a lovely afternoon by the Monongahela River--a tugboat pushed two barges down the water, which was so still it looked like a lake; the girls played in leaves and Martin built a rock fence by the Hiker, who was made entirely out of scrap metal by an ambitious boyscout. The Hiker signals tea time, but when we spread our blanket in his shadow I realized I'd forgotten our mug. This gave me the pleasure of a very brisk walk to the car and back whereupon I fell at the Hiker's feet and ate chocolate cake with my fingers.
On our way back Bea crouched down and crawled after a tiny cricket, marking his progress with her animated exclamations. At one point she became puzzled because he had suddenly disappeared; it turned out that he was rather squashed under her fat baby hand. I think he may be crippled for life, but how he was adored! At our right the hill rose up into a fringe of trees. At our left the horizon smoothed away in the glassiness of the still river. The air was unseasonably warm, but as we passed by the waterfall, a cool, muddy breeze blew down at us. We stopped and drank it in--the change was so sudden it was as if we'd passed into another world, another season, a memory of our childhood.
Then back home through the golden light spilled over the hills, the old beautiful houses and cows grazing and the smoke of a leaf fire. Finally the sheen of late sunlight was behind us; there was home and our funny dinner and baths and loud noises of children thumping up our stairs on their way to bed.
