Sadie didn't believe Mother when she told her it would be a greater adventure than the ones she entertained in the garden. Mother squeezed her, kissed her cheek, and they all laughed once upon the summit. The air was so cold and dry it cracked the skin of her cheeks and it chapped her lips, yet it felt thin and clean, like the waters from the stream.

The ladies breathed heavily, hands on their lower backs, stays pinching them into a dazed sort of happiness. The men gallantly offered arms for them to lean on.

They lingered a bit longer than they should have. The clouds were too delicious and Mother wanted to capture them just so with her tiny watercolor set. They would make brilliant additions to the family scrapbook.

Sadie wrinkled her nose and stared at the swiftly swirling clouds that were quickly darkening, and she hugged herself against the biting air that was becoming swiftly colder.

It didn't seem such a bad idea to her, she thought, as Mother ignored the repeated pleas of the party to hurry up and finish the water sketch, to enjoy most of one's time in a sunny garden fantasizing about talking caterpillars and torturing ants.

Mother prized adventure far too much.