Heath woke up in the clouds this morning. There was a very Brigadoonish feeling in the misty air as I drove to the Transfer Station with my trash and recycling. The dim headlights of oncoming cars could very well have been flickering torches as the hunt went on for the the missing Harry Beaton whose flight threatened to destroy the magical village.But the only tartans are on Henry's and my flannel shirts as we prepare to tackle the…