It’s the kind of weather that feels cold. Snow or rain most of the time, wet and overcast. Everything is grey, it seems, even the snow.
Inside is hot, outside holds a chill. Caught between seasons and unusual for November, usually cold as fuck frozen
Got in a few casts before the lake was completely frozen. The fish weren’t biting. The next time I’ll be dangling a hook down a hole in the ice, never hopeful with such a situation, no action on the lure, no casting where the fish just jumped.
Lisa & Scarlett.
Hope is something you have if you love. It can’t be any other way. The world is vast, changing all the time, the end of the world comes suddenly and everyday for so many, as it will for all of us.
That’s the end we’re supposed to be afraid of. It’s the gift that makes the fear disappear.
As good as it gets.
You don’t get many days fishing in September. To waste them is a sin.
The magic in dragonflies at water’s edge, or a daytime moon guaranteeing the fish will bite.
Dressing the catch for supper.