Editing pictures this morning, I realized that we really don’t talk enough about Pseudo Sista.

At first, she was Brother Dear’s Friend, working at Johnson’s of St. Mary, more years ago than any of us cares to admit.

And then she was Superglue, the one who kept Hillstock/Hillhouseapalooza together from the very start.

Over the years, she came to Hillhouse with each season, loving this extreme corner of Montana as deeply as the rest of the Stone/Fullerton crowd does, going so far as to live in our barn during summers.

And then one day we started calling her Pseudo Sista.

Later, she became a Hot Bun and favored hiking companion.  Then she directed my weddin’ to Honeydew.  And later still, she also moved to this extreme corner of Montana, to her own little hobbit house about an hour south of here, though she still lives with us in summertime.

Summer is coming to an end, and I will cry when Pseudo Sista leaves.  I’ve never met anyone with a sunnier disposition.  She is, as Cap’n Call would say, “cheerful in all weathers,” and helpful in all endeavors.  And, most importantly, no one gets a smile out of Maggie quicker than Pseudo Sista.

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