Mystery Balls

D had a day of it Friday. Identifying objects. People bring things in to museums. Someone from New Boston brought in some cast balls dug up when a water main was replaced. They don't seem heavy enough to be cannon balls, almost four inches in diameter, junk metal, lots of impurities, nicely spherical except for a slight flat spot where the pour must have been ground down. There are fifteen on them, uniform, and D cleans a couple, one of them is almost white, and we have no idea what the material is. He puts out some queries, someone will know something. I need to weigh them, if they were cannon balls they'd have to be close to the same weight or accuracy would be out the window. It was anyway, as I think about it, the powder charge, the wadding, everything varied; they shot chain and hooks to tear up rigging, these weren't rifled barrels but simple cylinders you stuffed with crap you found in the corner. Spiders and shit. Brown Recluse cannonade. Black Widow fusillade. Had to do my laundry, needed some things, so I sauntered into town the back way, stopped several times to look closely at plants I couldn't identify. Drove back and forth through the ford, to clean the undercarriage. Distracted, thinking about things, I forgot to stop at the library, so bought a Columbus newspaper at the convenience store next to the laundromat. I do this a couple of times a year, buy a newspaper. An interesting article on Black Bears, they've started turning up outside apartment complexes rifling through the trash. Two-year-old males often wander 100 miles looking for unoccupied terrain, they're solitary, and there's always the chance that Dad would eat them. Older males occasional eat the young, to bring the females back into heat. Opportunistic omnivores. Their claws are not retractable, but they can eat blueberries as daintily as your maiden aunt. Stopped at the museum, to check the damage from the auction; TR, between classes at the college, stopped by, with Megan. They're looking at the Carter paintings because he has a class coming through and he wants to engage them with specific details. Pegi stops by, on her way to the first classes of the season for her circus, wonders why we're all there. It's just a convenient hub is all, no big deal. Crowded, by my standards, I pack up and leave. Not unlike a bear looking for a place the sandstone bridges a hollow that could be called a cave. Home, in other words, where I can eat beans on toast, and fart like a sailor.