A neighbour; I've known the younger of the two sisters for several decades. She's a cheerful, friendly woman who always took her dogs, a pair of large and equally cheerful and friendly red, long-haired retrievers to our nearby ravine. She, in fact, owns a house that backs directly onto the ravine. When we first met she was a young mother. Both she and her sister have flaming red hair. Although there the physical resemblance comes to an abrupt halt.

Whereas her sister is a fairly large-boned woman, she is so dainty in size and height - correction, was - as to pass for someone on the cusp of dwarfism. A pretty woman, mother of two emerging teens at that time, whose boys are now grown into adults, one of whose wife has just given birth to twins. Her husband is as friendly as she is, but he never struck me as owning more than pedestrian intelligence. She and her sister, however, keep abreast of local and world news and can easily sustain a knowledgeable and interesting conversation between equally informed others who enjoy others' point of view.

They've embarked on a personal health mission. Their 84-year-old mother is now in the final stages of Alzheimer's and this is not a future they envision for themselves. They have begun attending lectures on health and personal responsibility promoting healthy lifestyles and dietary nutrition. If such lectures are given by professionals who can boast on their promotional literature that they are recognized-in-the-field experts, such as cardiologists or dietitians, they take to their bosom whatever it is that is being promoted.

Wheat flour, they now believe, cannot be properly assimilated nutritionally by the human body, as it once was, for it has been changed so dramatically from its origins by processing methods and through the new strains that have been introduced into the food-production chain that it little resembles what it once was: a source of impeccable nutrition for us. An alternate is heritage grains and coconut flour. This they staunchly believe and adhere to.

Eating whole foods, preparing one's own kitchen meals with an eye to taste and nutrition is insufficient for their needs for they plan to enter old age healthy and to remain that way. They propel themselves along the ravine trails, up hills and descending the valleys with a walking stick in either hand. Each stick tall enough to complement the ambulatory struggles of a 6-footer. But, they had been informed at one of the health and lifestyle seminars they regularly attend, that these are the ideal-length walking sticks; one should reach over one's head to grasp the sticks.

Our tiny, delicate-framed friend with the pretty face and engaging manner has steadily, over the years, inflated to an almost rotund shape. We watch, incredulous, as she struggles with her two walking sticks, her hands awkwardly placed well above shoulder height; just as well her dogs are now late and lamented; she has more than ample challenges to contend with.