My fishing experience usually goes like this....in hopes that I can cast my line out into the middle of the lake, I rare waaaaaaaay back and then find my rod going nowhere when I come forward.  Why's that?  Cuz ding-a-ling always sets me in the middle of a bunch of brush and trees!  I always end up snagging my line on them.

So, to avoid frustration and cross words with one another, I wind up walking around to find a nice spot to dangle my feet instead.

It was warm out yesterday.  I had ran five miles through the woods earlier that morning.  So, it felt good to just sit and listen to the water slapping against the rocks.

I sat there for a good, long while watching the water and decided I best go see how the fishing was going (i.e. hurry things along... i.e. bored).

"Catch anything yet?" I asked

"A few," he replied.

While he threw his rod back in, I sat down on a rock and watched an oddball storm front roll in.  It brought an impressive temperature drop and the semi-sunny skies turned iron-gray and overcast, but it didn't stop him.

Once the cold rain started to fall, I, on the other hand, ran to the truck.  I'm wimpy like that.