Scott and I went for a walk around 8 o'clock last night. He is impressed with this tall crop of rye and asked me to take a picture to show Lasse, his cousin in Sweden. Here you go, L.

Ivan, Scott's dad, saw an animal run from the stone pile where remains from the slaughter of two cows had been dumped. It did not look like a coyote, he said; he thinks it was a cat. A big cat.

Pat, Scott's mom, thought she heard an unusual growl north of the yard a few nights ago. Maybe the cougars we saw in the spring have not left the area after all.

I have been cautioned once more not to go walking without the dogs. Not that I can often get away without the two of them jumping and prancing happily alongside till we get out of the yard, whence the young one bolts ahead, running back to touch her nose to my hand every once in a while, and the old one trots at my side, panting all the way.

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On Friday I took my first tour with the palliative care team, which I have volunteered for. Wadena Hospital is a small one so there are not a lot of people in the palliative care ward at any given time, and after we looked in there we visited patients in the rest of the hospital and then went on to the attached nursing home to say hellos there. I enjoyed seeing people I know and meeting new ones (if seniors aren't the loveliest people there are, I'm a monkey's uncle), but shed a few tears when I got home, remembering the family members at the bedside of their dying mother/grandmother. It brought back strong emotions.