.. Some folks hang 'em on the wall. Others lock them away for future recompense. A few are in museums and some are in bank vaults. We fish ours a few times each year.
.. For this year's extravagance we've replaced the 110 year old, 3-screw, St. George with a modern masterpiece. Even Prospero could not have conjured such a pairing, (unlike Ferdinand and Miranda.) Strange bedfellows indeed.
.. Caught a fish or two and didn't break anything. In keeping with the tempest, (the neighbors revile my cavalier attitude toward ancient tools,) and in celebration of the rightful Duke of Milan, we dipped most of a loaf of ciabatta bread in some olive oil and balsamic vinegar -- and ate it -- burp. As comfortable as old slippers - more strangeness.
.. The coldness has arrived and we're contemplating a brief migration to liquid moisture.
.. There's been a bit of coldish weather lately, (it's warmer today.) The last gasp of "next door" fishing is taking place right now along the South Fork of the Madison River.
.. We've bailed out of the fun and left the catching to the bucks and bulls of the neighborhood. Hunting is in it's last frenzied throes as well and it occasionally sounds like a war in the woods. The buzzing around our ears is not from flies or other bugs. Time out.
.. If you're here in the next few days we suggest that you bundle up, leave home after the sun hits the water, stick to the bank in open areas, and use streamers of the dark and heavy-hued variety, (seems to be the neighborhood choice.)