Fang and I went for a walk in the woods today.
And splashed around in a few lakes along the way.
Falling leaves. Dropping temps. Fading light. Driving snow.
I see 'em!
A dozen fish brought to hand.
Unpossible to catch this many without the assistance of Fang. Of course.
A month had passed since I last landed a fish. So much more colorful, brilliant, precious than memory can account for.
Numb hands dictated an end to fishing. Might as well hike.
Home just after dark. Inundated by fragrances of burning leaves, sodden wool, grilling trout (and garlic!), wet dog. Happy smells.
Thanks for checkin' in.