Post deluge

Yesterday the weather cooled down and the skies opened a bit. We forayed out under the big umbrella, and remarked that it wasn't windy, just unrelentingly dripping. The chickens were sheltering under our friends' back steps, pecking at the cement and the side of the house.
Book hunting seemed to be in order, and the usual round of sources for used and new volumes yielded almost all we needed. A small, kind of beat up copy of Faulkner's Intruder in the Dust cost 48 cents. Why the guy didn't just give it to me I don't know, but that's practically free. One of our household is reading Carlos Castaneda right now, and in the three places I visited, he was shelved in three different categories: Metaphysics, New Age, and Spirituality. We wondered why he wasn't placed in Fiction.