Driving south on 494 on a Friday afternoon--Mother's Day weekend and Fishing Opener, I remember (years ago) being part of the group heading north for the annual event of landing a walleye at the stroke of midnight anchored at the edge of sandy bottom drop off on a lake near Nevis. We always had our limits and a fish fry for lunch as we shared our fishing stories.
Now with two grown sons out of the house and one still living at home, I just pack my waders, fly rod and reel, and flies and head to a fishing stream and cast for a brookie or brown. Still a novice at fly fishing and the challenge of retrieving my fly caught on budding shrubs along the river's edge, patience and determination pay off with a brookie hooked at the end of the line
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