"Sometimes, we're alone."

8/31/09

Drinking PBR and thinking about fly fishing in Waterloo--the abandoned riverside ("The Canal Society of New Jersey") village off Rt. 80. September starts tomorrow. Bailey wades through the thickets. Something purrs in the distance, a low motor. Bailey wears a blue-checked shirt, and red shorts, and earlier today he put air in my tires, and I sat and watched.

We had lots of days like this this summer.

The nats here are pests, but it sure beats the swamplands of Western Siberia.