Friday, November 12, 2010
Dam(n) cold, the air hanging below the structure at sunrise, as though the previous evening's discharge had shaken off it's lake-bottom chill and left it hovering in smoky wisps beneath the towering ediface.
Dam(n) picky, the Smith River browns, who spurned everything we threw at them, and we threw a lot.
Dam(n) fine, the brilliant fall day we spent up and down the waterway, soaking in the bluebird skies and breathtaking autumnal colors.
Dam(n) lucky, Curtis and I, to have been out there.
Ready to go back? Dam(n) straight.