Solitaire’ Phool

It’s a Tuesday night somewhere on a creek bank in WNC. This is how day two of excluded seclusion or secluded exclusion ends.  

Fishing was sparse … I’ll rephrase that. Fishing was done aplenty; catching was sparse this morning. The late afternoon, early evening catchings improved considerably.    

Tomorrow, I’ll conduct a remedial class in “Not Taking Flies From Strange Fishers.” They’re learning, but slowly.   

Obviously, I’m on a camping trip, but I’d like to bet nobody cares about what I had for dinner. So no pictures of that. No hero pose with a suffocating trout either.

At night, I write. I write and I think. I’ve tried doing both at the same time, but I failed miserably. It’s like trying to walk and chew gum at the same time. Some people can just do it, I guess. I’ve tried.


Evening solitude.                                                  

Elusive illustrations

In Solitaire’s hand. 

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