on the way back carol asks how are you, looking toward mister, i know that's a throwaway line, but i seize it and say pretty good, i cleaned the swamp today and she says precisely nothing, so i elaborate, thinking she may have been groaning inwardly at another swamp metaphor, i picked up a bag of garbage, i say, i hate to see the little swamp trashy, it's mister's watering hole, then i look at the crummy model yacht pond behind her and her dog lucy scavenging, and finally she says, there's a swamp? she usually doesn't cross the bridge, and i think i've never seen them at the lake yards away, and anyway many people never see the swamp who pass by regularly, they may as well be commuting on l.s.d., and it always occurs to me many people see all outdoor space as a commute from their passing windows and are surprised by the notion there's a swamp there.