At Dunnfield Creek, by that stream, both of us this time. Though I was genuinely surprised when S washed his face in the creek. Not scooping up and splashing water on the cheeks, as I might have done, but simply setting his glasses aside, and immersing his face into the running water. So much an outdoor man, I think, and one at one with the earth (and water). The city girl in me doesn’t understand, wants to understand, wants to try even, but pulls back. Perhaps it’s a culture gap, an aesthetic one too — I think. But not insurmountable, either. So few things are, in the end.