dominicDS

fishing


“You fish?” asked Bob. He was driving a loaner SUV and I was in the passenger seat as we bumped along on a narrow dirt path surrounded by chest-high grass. The river had caught me by surprise. A large expanse of calm water, only fifty yards away. A moment before, we were passing through the woods as Bob tried to point out the location of landscape pins off in the woods, marking an invisible boundary. Bob knew these woods well, and the river. He had lived in this place for a few decades. Now, he was leaving.

The Penobscot River

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