Previously, the first and only time we'd seen her was two weeks earlier.  Obviously confused, not knowing which way to turn, a slight young woman out alone trying to make sense of the trails in the ravine.  We introduced ourselves and explained, after hearing her say where it was she wanted to go, how to proceed. We walked along for a short while with her, to aid her in the direction she wanted to go.  She had recently moved to the area and was enchanted by the closeness of nature to where she now lived.

And then yesterday afternoon there she was, seated with two very young children atop one of the hills, a man standing nearby, as we ascended, calling out to us.  Remember me? she asked.  The two children looked at us with the curiosity of bright kids, the two-year-old busy unpeeling a banana, soon to move on to a plastic bagful of cherries.  Her four-year-old sister babbling on about what they'd seen thus far.  Both little girls blessed by genetics with a full cap of shining black hair.

Their father reminded me of a bravura character out of a Kurasawa film, but I've always found it difficult to distinguish facial characteristics between Japanese, Chinese, Koreans.  We were soon to discover that they were Chinese, likely from Hong Kong, simply by having their given names revealed to us: Oliver and Millie, with the penchant from that community for adopting formal British-sounding names.

The unending conversation and observations of the precocious little girls was captivating.  They were fascinated by everything around them; when Stumpy approached us for peanuts they were delighted.  When we showed them a juvenile owl looking solemnly down from us all from its perch above the creek, they were ecstatic.  The older little girl began scattering sunflower seeds on the trail.  I suggested to her that she place them off the trail where passersby wouldn't crush them and the birds and squirrels might discover them.  She was not entirely convinced.