“It is art that makes life, makes interest, makes importance…and I know of no substitute whatever for the force and beauty of its process” — Henry James

Last week’s column chose not to follow directions in getting it to Eric at the Herald. I think it was an error on my behalf.

So instead of sitting home wondering, I decided to go for a walk hoping that an amount of blue sky wasn’t blocked out by the gray, cloudy sky that was threatening to the south.

Earlier in the day I made sure Mello and Fred were quartered. Fred got to hang out in his cage and Mello rested on the couch. Then I went to the VA office in Rochester and met with a nice counselor. An hour later I was back on the road coming home anxious to see how Mello and Fred managed. Right away I let Fred out and Mello seemed satisfied to see me.

They went back outside to horse around. Later I went down the basement and discovered some “secret dirt” had been planted by Mello — secret dirt was a label Bruce Weigal used to use to indicate a dog had gone to the bathroom.

The rain we needed fell hard Monday night lifting the earth’s satisfaction at least around here. I’m sure the farmers too are especially appreciative. There were five Canadian honkers near the shore of Mill Pond that seemed pretty content— two of them were honking occasionally. The other three hung quietly together a few feet from shore. They appeared to be satisfied and somewhat paired up. They were taking baths while casually floating around. On the other end of the pond beyond the library stands the Austin Municipal Plant that looks deserted. I forgot the middle name (municipal) and asked a young woman who was sitting by the millpond with her dog and she filled me in on the municipal plant. She also thought the municipal plant was still in operation.

In closing there was a very tiny strange bug on my notebook that says “wired” in the lower corner.