Last night the house was a whirlwind of activity. I was starting a shower for the 6 y/o granddaughter. Our daughter and son-in-law were packing for an early departure the next morning, to return to Portland, Oregon. In the background, a CD of Ennio Morricone's soundtracks for Clint Eastwood's spaghetti westerns, such as A Fistful of Dollars; The Good, Bad, and The Ugly, etc. Listening to such music puts me in a melancholy mood ("Lara's Theme" is perhaps the most difficult soundtrack to listen to); the mood brings back memories of Yorkshire where I had a soul mate for walking.
There are times when I look back I feel I was walking with Emily Brontë -- not Jane Austen -- when I was walking with Pat. I think Emily Brontë would have been "fun" to walk with. I don't think I could have met Jane Austen's standards; I don't think Jane would have been a walker. Emily would have definitely been a walker. Emily no doubt spent a lot of time on the wind-blown moors by herself, probably to get away from her father, her brother, and even occasionally, from her sisters.
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