I am re-reading (I never finished it the first time, though) Van Wyck Brooks' Indian Summer, a retrospective of the literary renaissance in this area during the late 19th century. Chapter 2, my favorite, is about the great poets of Cambridge: my predecessors, as it were; of whom I am grossly ignorant overall. Chapter 3 goes out into Concord and Amesbury, and conjures a host of geographic names, some familiar, others less so - but one place, that I never thought of as a place, put me in the mood to drink (not that it takes much, these days.) Smutty Nose Well, I thought you were just a beer. You are, aren't you? You Old Brown Dog, Man's best friend on this first full day of autumn, when the humidity suggests ...