Owls.— She wanted me to show her where the owls lived. We'd already hiked three miles straight up a hill and my calves are on fire and cramped up in knotted burning; now she brings this owl thing up as we sit at the top of the bluff overlooking the valley below and I'm still catching my breath. We have a great view of the sun going down—it's real salmon pink blending to day-glo orange to cream all washed out meeting the horizon line. And I'm that bliss tired that makes you feel Zen empty, and she breaks it by asking right then, all soft like she knows she has to sneak it in: "I want you to show me