Lake said his hair isn’t red, it’s orange. I sympathized with his dismay and counseled him on the convention that we have “red” hair. He conceded that, well, his hair is orange and red. It’s true; our hair is comprised of many colors including copper, gold, orange, red, strawberry blonde, and in my case grey. Nana vehemently disagreed. “You don’t have any grey,” she said. “That’s because I pulled all the grey hair out,” I said. Lake said, “Lady Kitty pulled all your grey hair out!”

Too funny and astute, that Lake! Lake is well aware Lady Kitty is on the habit of grabbing on and pulling my hair out… a habit I’m none too fond of. Lady Kitty even grabs hold and pulls Lake’s short hair with her tiny vice grips… so he speaks from experience.

If only it were true and she could discern to preferentially pull the grey hair, I might not mind as much! Like many, my idealism has given way to pragmatism with time. Glad to have hair! Happy if it’s “red” and not grey! Even though Lake’s observation is apt. In my estimation, Lady Kitty, Lake and I all have tresses spun of gold, rose gold.

Lady Kitty exuberantly and indiscriminately gathers life towards her; tasting each for character and consuming its essence. Approaching six months, she shows great interest in eating. This is generally regarded as a positive development. We follow the guidance of Baby Lead Weaning. In essence, after six months of exclusive breastfeeding, breastfeeding is supplemented by child feeding themselves healthy finger foods as soon as they’re ready, able and willing. Lady Kitty has got her two bottom teeth installed and she’s ready to dig in!

Her blueberry eyes have keenly observed that we routinely gather together at the table, with relish. She has concluded that we’re up to something good… too good to pass up. This morning we could hardly keep the farm stand apricots out of her grasping reach. Her tenticle arms extend, scoop, grab, and return, checking for bounty. We seek to vigilantly push back the near plates of food.

At the beach it’s another story. She’s as quick as a lightning bug. At any chance she sucussfully scoops sand into her mouth: her first solids! I perform the finger sweep and removed it, but not until she had had her first taste of gourmand living. “I detect flinty notes,” she reflects.

Lake and I went for a hike today; with Lady Kitty getting a free ride. Before we set out we studied the map and planned our route. Lake said he wanted to make the longest hike possible of the various trails and loops in the nature conservation near us: to go ninety and hundred miles. I interpreted his intent literally, if not his words. We hiked for more than two hours. Later he denied ever stating he’d like to go on the long version when the 3.5 miles loomed endlessly.

It sprinkled rain on and off throughout our adventure. We were not fazed. The cool damp air was a welcome reprieve from the recent string of hot sunny days. We encountered no one and nothing on the trail: just damp forest smelling freshly of pine, reminding me of my days cruising timber in the Arapaho National Forest of Colorado.

We hiked, sang (The Bear Goes Over the Mountain), and planned for the hot chocolate we’d make when we arrived home. When we got thirsty we licked droplets of water off the snowberry leaves.

Lake said he wanted me to help him do a walking handstand across the living room floor when we got home; after we got home and before the hot chocolate. Sounded like a solid plan and I said as much. Indeed, we managed it later (the specificity helped). Meanwhile, when we paused to take in the peek-a-boo view of the lake I said: “See the lake in the distance? It’s the grey between the tops of the trees.”

Lake said, “ all I see is wite. Wite. Wite. Wite!”

Light? He became more emphatic as I continued to search for his meaning.

“The tolor wite,” he said.

“Aha! The color white. Thank you for explaining that, Lake. I appreciate it so much when you are able to elaborate on the meaning of a word while you’re learning to enunciate. It helps us both to not get frustrated.”

Back at home we read Amelia Bedelia Goes Camping and laughed at her silly communication gaffs. Clear communication feels like such an improbably elusive art sometimes. Today, our rainy day tested our skills and then rewarded us with a magical moment.

A perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you, big hiker!

Deer tracks greeted us on the beach this morning. Our neighbors spotted a large bull moose one morning last week. The sleepy Summer days unfold with all the excitement and action of the theatre.

We enjoy front row season tickets to this nature bath show. Water laps the shore where large bass break through the surface with a loud flip flap, taunting osprey and bald eagles with their shiny flash all day long. A soundtrack of birdsong and rustling branches filters through the dappled light of the forest canopy. Resident hummingbirds whir and flit over the front porch, checking the dead pine branches for nectar. Inhaling deeply the dry air reveals faint traces of fish and fresh baked pine.

Sunset infuses the ripples with pink and blue liquid gold. The red Old Town canoe glides us over the dusk and into the night as bats swoop and dart like kamikaze. As the moon gains in lumens, this Summer’s comet appears to silent applause as the curtain drops on the day. Coyotes yip and howl to the night.

The healing power of nature bathes our world as the weeks slip stealthily by.