Take This Seat And . . .

Down to the woods along the Bruce Trail at Limehouse with a reluctant Jools trudging a couple of steps behind, mumbling about the snow, the cold and her lack of adequate footwear. "Want to rest a while?", I asked as we came to this forelorn seat beside a tumbling icy stream. She stared at me, muttered several dark threats and coarse oaths, then took to her heels, heading in the direction of the truck, adding a cheery suggestion that I should do something with the seat that she knew perfectly well was physically impossible . . .