My plans forthis morning hadn't really proceeded past the idea that I would need tosomehow traverse the crowds of parade watchers quickly enough to be ableto keep up with Lisa and the rest of the Southern Belles in order totake plenty of photographs.Well... I had figured out a way to keep up with Lisa and her sisters,all right--and all without having to fight the crowds. As I absentlyput my hand down on my hoopskirt in an effort to keep it from swayingtoo much as I walked, I realized that I was putting a greater andgreater distance between myself and my personal belongings, specificallymy male belongings--my pants, t-shirt, sneakers, keys and wallet,everything male I owned was piled up in a dressing room back in thecommunity center.Everything except for my tube socks, that is. I had those with me,although not on my feet. Lisa had rolled them up and wedged them intothe bra cups of the tight corset I was wearing. Looking down at myself,however, they now more closely resembled a. They walked across the open moor to Longshore Lodge, and drank coffee outside the Visitors' Centre, watching the birds on the feeders and nibbling date-and—walnut cake, after which they walked down through the estate, past the pond, across the road, following the paths they'd trod on their first date; stopped and kissed in the spot where Natalie had said some of the trees might be Ents. She walked up to an ancient, gnarled and twisted Sessile Oak, laid a hand on it, and said, "thank you."Leaving the woods, they had lunch in the Station Café, and walked over the railway bridge, across the river, and up the other side of the gorge. Turning aside from the path, they sat on the same rock, and watched until they saw the black-and-white form of a pied flycatcher, though entering a different nest-box.Perhaps both of them had a sense of urgency, because the last part of the walk through the woods didn't take long and they entered the old millstone quarry earlier than he'd expected. They stood.
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