Fishing for memories
I'm going to try something a little different with my blog. Okay, maybe it isn't that different. I'm going to talk about some of my memories. They won't look like much at first, but pieced together over time, they will take shape sort of like a mosaic. The above photo was taken the day after I caught my first fish. My dad got me up early (see my uncombed haystack of hair?) and took this photo along with one of me on my red bike (not pictured in the background; that was my oldest brother's). The picture was taken in the driveway of our Hot Springs home on the hill, so I was between seven and ten years old. I recall being very tired. Mornings, apparently, were not my thing. My mom cooked the fish after I begged her. It really should have been thrown back, which my dad suggested, but I also begged him to let me keep it, it being my first fish. I believe it is a trout. The Black Hills waterways are stocked with trout, and this fish was caught at Sylvan Lake. ...