Fishing is like eating M&M’s. It’s a truly non-satiating activity. Give me a little, and I want more. When it’s time to go home, I can’t help but think of the next time I will be able to steal away to the river.

When it’s cold enough to wear a woolen flannel and the skies are bright blue, I think of my friend Dick Bolton. Dick passed away a few years ago too darn young, but he left a handful of us with a better appreciation of the great outdoors.

Last night, as Abbey and I sat on the couch going through all things Zylstra and Haan, I came across two photos.