I have no regrets about our summer, looking back I can replay so many shimmering memories of swimming with the girls, hunting for sticks to ‘marsh the mallows‘, and diving beneath the sparkling lake water to scour the shallow shores for driftwood. Each day has a soundtrack that makes me proud as the echoes play of having arrived at milestones hand-in-hand: swimming without life jackets, jumping off the back of the boat into bottomless bays and speeding down the treefort slide. I’ll admit that each autumn brings a pang of sorrow as I put away frocks that have run out of sisters to share them, wee little bits of memory-charged fabric go to a donate pile or a reverence heap. This year though, this…