Grotten Brown from a Seeker-Errant

I was out fishing this morning (nice mist ... clear water ... three dozen or so good strikes ... of which, landed about a dozen ... kept none), and when I came back I discovered a note hanging on my doorpost nail from an English 'fellow' I met five or six years ago in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

It was a couple weeks after Mardi Gras (I prefer a lenten French Quarter, frankly). This fellow had stayed on and had been bumming around Southern Louisiana. We met in a café in the morning and ended up spending the whole day together. Clearly he was a Seeker-Errant - almost a radical Seeker-Errant. In the evening, I offered to buy him a hotel room for a night (he needed a bath), but he declined and we parted.

I hadn't seen him since.

But apparently he was here this morning.

He couldn't, of course, wait four whole hours for me to return from fishing, so he left a note.

__________
Friend -

I am sorry to have missed you, but I have to meet up with a guy from Findhorn in two weeks and I'm about three days behind schedule. I heard you had taken up residence in some valley in Ithilien though, and I thought if I could find your place I might catch you in. Oh well. Maybe next time.

Peace,

Graham

PS - I slipped a book under the door. It's a little beat up from the trip it took me on to Brazil, but I think you'll like it.

PPS - Check the little bend in the stream just down from your cottage. I left you a little something there as well.
__________

The book was a more than a little beat up copy of The Little Prince (but I will treasure it) and the surprise in the stream was a bottle of Grotten Brown, which I will save for a special occasion.

And who knows if I'll ever even see that guy again.