DAWN PATROL

fly fishing & life with terrible spelling and worse grammar
golden trash

golden trash

float tubes & midge eaters

float tubes & midge eaters

i wake up one morning and the weather outside our thin windows is sharp and angry. i wander into the bathroom to take to piss and realize that there is ice on the inside of the window pane. my feet quickly lose heat on the tile and i don’t get it back until later that night standing in our leaky shower with the tepid water drizzling over my dusty head. during the warmest part of the day the thermometer reads 4°. i spend each hour of the dim daylight taking pieces of our life from a storage unit and stuffing them into my car and then making a short drive only to carry them from the car into the house that we have just bought. 

a house that smells of cigarettes and animals and neglect. 

i wake up 7 days later and all the snow and slush are gone. the thermometer reads 73° during the warmest part of the day and the windows no longer have ice one them. i pull them open to wash the house of it’s past. later i stand in the middle of the dirt patch that is our yard and i soak up the morning sun and it’s amazing, impossible and glorious fucking warmth.

i wake up one morning and the weather outside our thin windows is sharp and angry. i wander into the bathroom to take to piss and realize that there is ice on the inside of the window pane. my feet quickly lose heat on the tile and i don’t get it back until later that night standing in our leaky shower with the tepid water drizzling over my dusty head. during the warmest part of the day the thermometer reads 4°. i spend each hour of the dim daylight taking pieces of our life from a storage unit and stuffing them into my car and then making a short drive only to carry them from the car into the house that we have just bought.

a house that smells of cigarettes and animals and neglect.

i wake up 7 days later and all the snow and slush are gone. the thermometer reads 73° during the warmest part of the day and the windows no longer have ice one them. i pull them open to wash the house of it’s past. later i stand in the middle of the dirt patch that is our yard and i soak up the morning sun and it’s amazing, impossible and glorious fucking warmth.

(Source: )

a page of high plains sketches.

a page of high plains sketches.

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