We let them wander in the woods alone. The trees are yet to blossom and so, although they think we cannot, we can see them as they venture further and further away, brave and curious, deep into the spirit wood. The pine trees seem larger than they were last spring, but perhaps it is only an illusion created by the small bodies beneath them. June is happiest on mornings like this: outdoors. Untamed and reckless, she mounts the hill and smiles back at me as I approach, daring me to catch her, which I do. And it is this way, together, holding hands that we descend the hill and at last leave the woods.