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Tuesday, Mar. 08, 2005 - 11:07 a.m.

A Little Walk-pix

I have been walking down to the river on the lot. Tyrone and Jerry walked with me this morning. It was Jerry's first time out of the yard and backplace and his tail was furred out. Tyrone has gone with me many times as I walk around the place. I have shooed him back to keep him from getting hit by a car, but he is old now and set in his ways, and one of his ways is to protect me wherever he can go.

The river lot is nice right now. The grass and weeds have not grown up yet, but much has been cleared off over the years. A big patch of wild roses needs cut back so more of the river shows, but I don't spend much time looking out at the river and if I want to do so, it is nicer to just walk down to the edge. It has never been a river to play in. It is not called the Serpent for nothing. It is swift and wily and black at heart and has claimed many. Even when it is still with ice, it is dangerous. A neighbor family up the road lost two teen boys under its icy surface many years ago, and many have drowned over the years, even in the places that looked placid on the surface.

We were going to get a boat once when we first moved here, because the access was so close and convenient, but time passed and life happened. When 1s died, 800 became fearful of many things that could happen, and drew the boundaries close. That only worked while everyone was at home, but the threat was always there that to fool around the water here was not wise. We roamed its banks but never entered.

Fishing was never done. This is a family of fly fisherman, and to fish in this water wasn't sporting, especially when the fishing was so good up at the cabin. I can remember when we built fences for the Forest Service one summer all up and down that high valley. The cabin sat right in the middle of the valley and all 3 boys would go with 800 each morning to build fence. At noon, I and 1d, along with month-old 2d, would take a lunch to the fencing area. We would bring one boy back, and the favored one would fly-fish all afternoon. When evening came, after supper all 3 along with little sis would go down to the creeks and fish some more. It was an idyllic summer for them. We ate fish for every evening meal. Fried trout, fried spuds, coleslaw, and creamed corn---they never tired of the menu. We had to eat the fish, so they could go again the next day. To this day, they are all fishermen supreme in the streams of these mountains.

That was thirty years ago, another lifetime long past in another world.

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