Cora’s mansion. There was a garden of daffodils off to the right of it.

My daughter, Christina, asked if we’d like to meet her and our granddaughter, Cora, on the Cliff Walk in Newport last Sunday. day by the sea.

A well worn tree stood at the corner of a mansion lot. On the way back we visited. Cora walked across the 3 foot in circumference low-lying branch, 6 inches off the ground. She and I played a pretend that fizzled out quickly. Mom, Grampa and Uncle Sam were over by the hedge. We found out later Grampa was serving food at his cafe, the hedge being his countertop.

(That last paragraph has me wondering how Peter and I get by in reality. But I digress…)

It has been a few years since I  climbed a tree. I began full heartedly in my forties – one weekend with a chainsaw – to cut down unwanted branches on our Wood Street property when I was a single mom. Since then just for the thrill of it. But I’ve fallen out of the habit. (Not literally – yet!)

So Cora and I were playing on and around the tree when – Zing – ‘CLIMB THE TREE’ entered my mind. ‘NO, you can’t do that!’ Done deal. There’s no going back once the NO voice kicks in. (Within reason,) A few levels up the branches, I would have kept going but my daughter delivered her reprimand from Hedge Cafe – “Please Mom, I do work here, y’know!” (She works marketing for Sodexo and Salve Regina University is one of their clients.)

Equally smile-causing as my daughter’s interjection was Cora’s, “Good job, Gramma!”

Salve! Salve!