Yesterday the wind howled; nothing new just another too windy day of no fishing (at least not the sort interests this ol' boy) so...What to do? In a landslide "pokin' about the nearby hills" wins. For us always a good choice no matter what the weather gods happen to be serving up at the moment. And poking about a mountain crick...Well hell, how good is that?
Pile a rotting shingles, a few well-weathered boards, back wall (no doubt to keep the mountain at bay) and this nifty stone fireplace are all that remain of what in all likelihood was a mine shack. Weren't for the howling wind who knows what secrets we might a overheard, eh? Note the Dorritos bag in the fire box, doubtless the remains of a more recent pack a hongry hombres...Elkacholics?
Spittin' rain down here but a might wintery lookin' up top...All in all a fine day for wishin' we was fishin' though doubtless the better idea was just pokin' about...Too bad ya missed it...
No comments:
Post a Comment