Idaho is at its best this time of year, all green and fragrant. We climbed a winding road through the trees and suddenly there we were at a hilltop house overlooking the beautiful river. Annette met us at the door and took us into a house full of women. Women, children, dogs, cats and more women, but no men. Quickly we were introduced and a minute later I couldn't remember a name. This was the first time I had ever been with a large group of FPs. It was dazzling and rather breathtaking.

I sat down next to one of the wives. Annette's lovely GG was moving among the new ones, smiling and relaxed, the perfect hostess. The GG next to me began chatting and soon we were comparing dress sizes, colors and sewing techniques. Suddenly I realized she simply accepted me as another woman! To you who have never been around such a group this acceptance comes as a shock, a delightful, giddy shock.

More women were coming now. More exciting introductions to real live FPs and their GGs. Annette's GG chased out a family of cats that had slipped in with the latest guests, then began passing around candies, tidbits and refreshments. Children came and went seemingly indifferent to this display of femininity. The incongruity of it all made it seem a bit dreamlike.

At Annette's suggestion several of us went outside to walk around in the fields. The hill behind the house tempted us. We started to climb the dirt road, in heels no less. A woman came racing down the hill on a bicycle, her hair flying, dress flapping. Close behind in the dust was a boy pedaling furiously. They swept by us, the boy pounding away on some sort of a horn. It was Virginia with Annette's son in hot pursuit.

We continued to the top and rested on the grass. I was warm from the climb, even in a sleeveless dress. The cool air on bare arms felt good, almost sensuous. The sun was slipping down now behind the moun- tain leaving shreds of pink and gray. A boat whistle blew across the river. The FP beside me flicked her hair back as it moved with the breeze, her hand moving to smooth her skirt in the grass. She was doing it automatically, without thinking. She was a woman now.

We sat in silence for many minutes, each girl living out an impossible dream. I would frame this scene in my mind and save it for a winter night. Ridiculous? No. Very real. You should have been there.

It was getting late. We started down.

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