Fishing

For a year and a half, we lived in Montana.  It is where Lyn and I finished up high school.  While we were there, our step-father introduced Lyn to fishing.  He always took her to a well stocked pond where she had a good chance at success.

He would bait the line for her and she would cast her line into the water.  She had the patience to just hold still and wait for the fish.  Once she felt the tell-tale pull of the fish on the line, she would slowly start reeling it in.  Once the fish broke the water, Lyn was done as far as she was concerned.

This picture was snapped just seconds before she turned and nearly tossed the pole to our step-father.  Lyn never wanted to reel in the fish all the way.  Really, she didn't have to either.  Our step-father had trained his dog to retrieve the fish.  About the time Lyn passed the rod to someone else, the dog would jump in and pick up the fish.  She had a very soft mouth and the fish was gently placed at your feet.

Lyn would not pick up the fish.  She did not clean them.  He did.  She most definitely did not eat them.  I did that.  She was done!  Lyn loved fishing as long as it was on her terms.  You bait the hook.  She holds the rod and reels it in.  You do all the rest of the work.  If you could live with those terms then she was happy to spend the afternoon fishing with you.