Maggie and I shared a deep love of nature. We both grew up in rural areas of Louisiana, and we were always more relaxed and at home with the slower, more natural pace of life in the country. We were excited to be introducing Layla to her first real connection to a farm and so, now on our first walk with her outside of the city, it was fun to be sharing this experience with her.

We decided to take the same path that Sam had shown us—the path that took us past his house under the old windmill. It was a beautiful sunny day, not too warm, with a brilliant blue sky above us filled with puffy and building cumulus clouds that promised the possibility of a late-afternoon shower or two. Approaching Sam’s house, we turned a corner in the well-worn foot trail that skirted an old line of junipers planted as a windbreak around Sam’s house. The old house was built from the same hand-hewn timber we saw in the main house. It was very beautiful in a rustic sort of way. Sitting on the front porch was old Strider, who stood up abruptly, and as we passed in front of the house he gave us a warning bark.