We talked with Jane for a bit and then wandered along the stream and through the woods and the pathways and campsites that Peter has created through the years. Frisco was loving it - he was in and out of the stream, romping along the paths and disappearing, then reappearing, bounding through the tall grass, just happy as he could be. My poor dog has spent his life on a leash or tethered in one RV park after another and this freedom sure was an enjoyable thing for him. It made me feel happy to see him so happy.
When we got back, Peter had finished the chores that he was working on and we all sat in the screen house and had a great conversation over a beer and some snacks. There was some reminiscing and we had a sensitive moment remember his brother, Tom, who was our good friend and the person responsible for bringing us to this place.
It was a long drive, but not uncommon for Tom and I, and the day gave me a really good feeling. On Monday, I will truly feel at home when we get to Stoughton, where I lived for much of my life.
