She had sent her regrets, promising a visit to Black Goat Farm at the winter solstice, but her heart was heavy with reproof. "It's October! What am I doing still in the city? I should be in the country with the others!" Molly lamented, cursing her ridiculous day job, her hair appointment, and all of the earthly things that - in the moment - had seemed so important that they could not be rescheduled (let alone denied). "I confound me, I really do," she told Christine over the phone. "I have become ... basic." Near to sunset, when the internal warfare was at its worst, an idea arrived - an insight, a blessing. Molly rushed to the closet and then to the car, observing the speed limit only to save the time of being pulled over should she not. "We're here! We're here!" she whispered happily. Crawling up onto the hood and then the roof of her car on a service road turnout by the airport, Molly lay with her arms wide, her broom held in her right hand, screaming with delight as the planes roared overhead, her spirit truly soaring.