Friend of a friend has a place, a fish camp kind of place. Only weekend that worked with a quartet of schedules – one of the last weekends of Advent, what better place to spend part of the weekend than fishing?
Cold front, arctic air, blew through on Thursday/Friday. We fished. I wore every stitch of clothing I had, and, in deference to the weather gods and a Retrograde Mercury, I bought a pair of “tennis” shoes. For the last decade, or more, I’ve owned nothing but cowboy boots and sandals.
Glad I did.
Although the “sneakers,” “runners,” or even “tennis shoes” will never be used for one of the named activities.
Managed one fish and no frostbite.