With a wistful look in her eyes, grandma gazed at the gently flowing stream. As a rule we did not normally walk along this pathway. We decided to pick wild flowers, and while looking at the alluring mushrooms, our attention was diverted by the sound of the water. A wrinkled smile beamed over gran’s loving face when she saw the remains of the old cottage. An old, decayed oar lay at the side of the cottage as a reminder of all of the many happy days she had spent on the river nearby. The old beloved house where she was born.