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“Is this where there was a tree across the road?” Hunter asks as we round a bend to a straight stretch between trees.


“Yeah, I think so,” I tell him. It’s funny what he remembers. That was just a quick drive five years ago, the first in the Jeep.¹ But what he did with that geometry homework from yesterday can be a complete mystery.


It isn’t the first ridge recollection he’s shared today. The vagaries of childhood memory seem to imbue some events with mythic qualities, like looming outlines in the fog. I’m glad to hear the bit of reverence he has for our experiences.


¹ Trail Image, “Spring Picnic on Boise Ridge” (May 6, 2012):


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Taken on July 4, 2017