My husband and sons spent this perfect "fall" day fishing just down the road. My oldest caught this trout and released it back into the nearby pond, a sort of vindication since only his younger brother had caught one while fishing the Bitterroot River in Montana last summer. Thank you, Mr. Trout, for evening the score . . . even when we don't keep score. Right, boys? It's not a competition, and we don't keep score.
Read/watch Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It, a story with ties to Montana, where we used to live, and New Hampshire, where we live now. Wonderful book and film, two brothers, and some fish, too.
I spent the better part of the day back with my books and writing, despite my fuzzy, jet-lagged brain, stepping out only to walk the dog. I brought this fall leaf back from our walk. I've only seen this one red leaf and that one yellow schoolbus, but still . . . Perhaps an early fall will bring the "leaf peepers" to New Hampshire soon.
Wait, leaf peeping is really a thing? I thought it was something the West Wing screenwriters made up for comic value.
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