It’s cool and damp for a June morning; fog drifts up from the river, moving rapidly towards us. The tall fir trees softly disapearing, and in mere minutes we have become a small, vibrant green, island, surrounded by a sea of gray. Sudden movement in the loquat tree tells me breakfast is being served. Limbs jerk, leaves rustle, parting but an instant, time enough to reveal blue, white fluttering within...two hungry Scrub Jays devouring fruit, still wet from the morning dew. Emmalie is going through her morning feeding ritual; a bite of this, the putting on, and taking off of that, a sip of coffee, and the pile of rejects grow. Caught up again in her frenzied search for just that perfect match of colors for her day adrift in a sea of office gray. Dropping rejects where she stands...unintentionally creating for me my morning exercise program of bend, stretch, reach, until everything is back on hanger, or in a drawer. Her decision made, one final check in front of the mirror, a glance at me... for some word of approval, (just beautiful I say). She takes her lunch from my hand while rushing out the door...pausing at the gate to give me last minute instructions. ‘The don’t forgets’ is what I call them: don’t forget Tipper’s ears, and don’t forget to dose the sparrows. Don’t forget to water the yard...each one called back over her shoulder as she move purposely out the gate towards her car. And as she drives away I drift slowly back into the house, lost in my own sea of fog, promising myself ‘I won’t forget’.