When I was growing up one Sunday a month my family would drive a little over an hour to my mothers home county to go to the little country church where my folks were married have a home cooked meal at my grandmothers house and just " visit " for the rest of the day.
Now days I make that visit once or twice a year and visit those limestone springs and streams that my sharecropper grandfather shared with me. It was my introduction to flyfishing .......my introduction to adventure..... it was something I can never quite catch up with. But I try.
Big tobacco ......
The creekbed is dry until the spring.
I left those sweet limestone springs on the highland rim near the Tennessee line and came back home to the swamp lands that I call home . It was a good day and time for a good steak.
A fine day.
I think the "BM" on this mound actually stands for "bowel movement"; one of Franzen's, if I'm not mistaken...
when I fall, I am still cold and wet, but much more stylishly dressed. as my hat disappears in the riffle- flybug.pa
"Sugar? No thank you Turkish, I'm sweet enough."
"This place is so fucked up. Where else could you find a thread with a Debbie Gibson song, a chapter from Fyodor Dostoevsky, and a sweet under boob pic like that on the same page?" - Hogleg
"You may not be smart, but your car gets good gas mileage". - Stovetop
"Put in the effort and good things happen"... Hogleg
"Salinity is proportional to sanity for sure" ..The Volfish
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