When he didn't get any real bites, daddy let him reel in the bait fish. He was so excited and so, so proud. He said, "Me catched a really, really big one." Let the fishing "stories" begin.
the journal of a nature-loving, country-living Montana mama raising two tiny humans, vegetables, goats and chickens |:| yearning to slow time while freezing our precious life with photos & words |:| striving to live slowly, wholly, honestly and gracefully while chasing wildlife, chickens, rainbows and dreams |:| "We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand – and melting like a snowflake.” ~Marie B. Ray
Thursday, December 19, 2013
He's Hooked
All it took was twenty minutes sitting in an ice shanty with an ice fishing pole in his hands and now he's got fishing on the brain. All. The. Time. Am I at all surprised that more than anything he'd rather be fishing? Not even a little bit.
When he didn't get any real bites, daddy let him reel in the bait fish. He was so excited and so, so proud. He said, "Me catched a really, really big one." Let the fishing "stories" begin.
When he didn't get any real bites, daddy let him reel in the bait fish. He was so excited and so, so proud. He said, "Me catched a really, really big one." Let the fishing "stories" begin.
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